lov4gor3

[lov4gor3]

“But if you ever do try to leave again… I’m comin’ to get you. Every time.”

YESSSS AHHHHHH😩😩😩

𝖲𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖻𝖿!𝖲𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌

You tried to leave once.

Bag half-packed, shoes on, heart pounding like a warning in your chest. Stack had said something slick — again — called you a bitch under his breath when you didn’t answer fast enough, yanked the blanket off you in the middle of an argument just because he could.

And you told yourself, That’s it. I’m gone.

You made it to the door.

Didn’t even make it down the porch.

Stack followed, shirtless, tattooed, chain swaying against his chest. Stood there in nothing but sweats, jaw clenched, looking at you like you’d spat in his face.

“Oh, so you runnin’ now?” he asked. Calm.

Too calm.

“I’m tired of this shit,” you hissed, bag in hand. “You talk to me like I’m some bitch off the street.”

He took one step forward.

“You act like it.”

That was the moment your fingers curled tighter around the strap. The moment your throat burned and your vision blurred — not from fear, but from the way his voice hit. Cold. Disrespectful. Like he wanted you to cry.

You turned your back.

But you didn’t even make it to the bottom step.

Stack grabbed your arm, hard. Spun you back around and yanked you close, chest to chest.

“You gon’ walk away, “Out here actin’ like you single, like I won’t snatch that attitude outta you real quick." he growled. “Like I don’t pay half them bills? Like I ain’t the only nigga who really know how to touch you?”

You tried to speak — tried to push him — but he already had you pressed to the front door, mouth inches from yours, hand sliding between your legs through your shorts.

“You wet right now, ain’t you?” he whispered, fingers rubbing you in circles that made your knees wobble. “Always talkin’ shit, but this lil’ pussy stay beggin’.”

“Stack,” you gasped, breath catching.

He shoved your bag aside. It hit the floor with a thud.

“Say that shit again,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “Say you done. I dare you.”

“Don’t ever fix your mouth to say some shit like that again,” he growls. “You need somebody else?”

His hand grip your throat gently, thumb pressing into your pulse.

“You need somebody else?” he repeats, slower now.

You shake your head, lip trembling.

But you couldn’t say it.

Not when he was dragging you back inside, slamming the door, and tossing you on the couch like a toy he wasn’t finished with.

“Nah. I’m the only one who know how to handle you.”

He fucked you like he was mad you ever thought about leaving.

One hand around your throat, the other pulling your leg up higher, hips thrusting into you so hard the couch creaked and shifted under the weight of it.

“This mine,” he growled, eyes locked on the way your chest bounced with each stroke. “Ain’t nobody else ever gon’ break you in like I do.”

You clawed at his back, back arching as his hand slid under your shirt, gripping your breast rough enough to make you moan.

“Stack—fuck—”

“Yeah,” he hissed, sweat dripping down his neck, abs flexing. “Say my name like that. You sound real brave when you packin’ your lil’ bag, but look at you now. Can’t take it, huh?”

He slipped out for a second — just enough to slap the head against your clit — then thrust back in so deep your voice broke in your throat.

“Who the fuck you belong to?” he asked, fingers digging into your hips. “Say it.”

“You—Stack—I’m yours—shit—”

“Damn right.”

He flipped you over, ass in the air, face pressed into the cushions.

“You wanna leave?” he asked, dragging his tip between your folds.

You whimpered, body shaking. “No…”

He thrust into you deep.

“Then don’t ever try that shit again.”

After, he didn’t say much.

Just pulled you into his chest, lips brushing your shoulder as your breathing slowed.

“You get on my damn nerves,” he muttered, voice soft now.

You mumbled something back, too tired to argue.

And in the silence that followed, Stack kissed your temple and whispered like a secret

“But if you ever do try to leave again… I’m comin’ to get you. Every time.”

[lov4gor3]

“still mine,” he whispers. “don’t matter what you say. this pussy still mine.”

yeahhhh this my fav writer

༯ 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄 ༯

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ➤ Elias “Stack” Moore

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ➤ you reunite with your ex, Elias “Stack” Moore, during an awkward movie night orchestrated by your ex–best friend—who also happens to be dating him now.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ➤ hey! this based off “Deep” by Summer Walker because i love the song like wtf, and @decayingearf be motivating me to do more music based. enjoy!

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ➤ 4.8k

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ➤ public sex, agoraphilia, degradation, dumbification, cowgirl, emotional betrayal, jealousy, modern au. 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈! 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓! 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃!

⪻────𖤓────⪼

you ain’t think it’d hit this hard.

sitting in the dark, AC vent blowing too cold on your collarbones, and that big-ass screen ain’t got nothing on how uncomfortable it feel to sit in the back row with your ex and your ex–best friend.

she two rows down, humming to herself while she looks over the snack menu like it’s a damn museum piece. talking about, “girl i just want us to hang again like old times.”

but it ain’t old times. it ain’t when you and Elias was up in your mama house watching Love & Basketball half-naked and arguing over who cooked the best food. this the version of reality where your best friend fumbled through your past, picked out the part that hurt you the most, and decided to hold it real close. like she ain’t know what she was doing.

you never pressed her about it. never brought it up, even when your chest got tight every time you saw her repost him. even when your homegirls asked, “ain’t that yo old dude?” and you had to lie like it don’t matter. it do. and it’s fucking you up sitting right here next to him like you ain’t still bitter. like you don’t still feel him in your hips sometimes when you close your eyes too long.

he ain’t said nothing since y’all sat down. legs spread wide, hoodie half-on, phone glowing low in his palm like he too busy to speak. he never was good at making things easy. always liked to keep you guessing—what he thinking, what he want, what page he on while you still tryna read the cover.

you glance at the screen just to distract yourself. it ain’t even started yet. just previews and background music that don’t match the vibe in your chest.

“yo,” he mutters low, breaking the silence. his voice got that same heavy-lidded smoothness like it always did. the one that used to whisper mess in your ear till your knees gave out.

you look at him sideways. “what?”

he don’t answer. don’t look at you either. just hooks an arm behind your seat like he own it, like he used to when y’all were still together. and then, as natural as breathing, he reaches over and pulls you onto his lap.

you freeze. lips parting, breath catching sharp in your throat. it don’t even make no sense. no warning, no permission, no nothing—just warm hands and heavy thighs under yours now, like you belonged there the whole time.

“elias—”

“shut up.”

his voice cuts low in your ear, firm but calm. “you talk too damn much. always did.”

you tense up, glancing down toward the row where your ex–best friend still standing. she ain’t turned around yet. probably still deciding between sweet or salty like y’all not up here doing something way worse.

his hand slides up your bare thigh, fingers dragging lazy over the skin just under your dress. you wore it to feel good about yourself. didn’t expect to be in his lap while it bunched up around your waist.

“you think i ain’t notice the way you been lookin’ at me all night?”

he’s whispering now, lips ghosting over your cheek. “sittin’ over there tryna act cute, tryna act mad. but you pulled up, didn’t you?”

you swallow hard. you should move. should cuss him out, go off, text her and tell her what the hell he on. but you don’t. because the heat between your legs is worse than your pride, and deep down, you never stopped being his.

you grind slow at first. barely moving, just rocking enough for him to feel it.

his hands slide to your hips, gripping you tight like he already know what you need. the movie starts playing, loud enough to mask the little breathy noises falling out your mouth.

“fuck,” he groans low, pressing his head back against the seat. “you feel that? pussy still wet like she missed me.”

you turn your head into his neck, hiding your face. too much heat in your cheeks, too much wet between your thighs. your fingers curl around the back of the seat, trying to hold on to something steady while he drags your hips down slow onto his dick.

you ain’t got no panties on. you never do in dresses. and now you regretting every choice you made tonight.

his lips brush your ear again. “look at you. already shaking. already tryna hide.”

you moan into his neck, muffled and sweet, and he laughs. low and mean.

“nah, keep that shit tucked in my neck like a good girl,” he mutters, biting your shoulder through your dress. “don’t need nobody seein’ how dumb you get when i touch you.”

you bounce just a little, thighs burning from the way he’s holding you steady. your knees press tight on either side of his, and the seats creak softly with every slow grind.

his hand wraps around your throat, not tight, just enough pressure to make your eyes roll halfway back. the kind of hold that says you mine even if you act like you not.

“don’t make no noise. unless you tryna get caught.”

your hips stutter.

he chuckles again, other hand sliding under your dress to palm your ass. “see? i say the word ‘caught’ and this pussy damn near jump.”

you nod into his neck, mouth open, moaning softly against his hoodie. you feel his dick slide deeper, stretch you open in a way you ain’t felt since last winter when y’all swore it was the last time. back when you said you was done crying over him.

but it’s different now. nastier. dirtier. you not his no more, and he don’t even pretend to love you while he fuck you. he just fill you up like he got a point to prove.

“ride it,” he hisses. “c’mon. you know what to do.”

your thighs shake as you lift yourself up and drop again, muffling a moan into his collar. you hate how good it feel. hate how cocky he sounds when he grabs your ass tighter and mutters, “there she go.”

you can feel every inch of him, thick and warm, pressing too deep inside. your lashes flutter, mouth hanging open in his neck. you try not to make noise, but it’s too much—he’s too much.

“f-fuck, elias…”

his hand grabs your jaw, tilting your face up. you won’t open your eyes. not while he’s looking at you like that.

“nah, keep lookin’ down. keep hidin’. like a lil slut who know she wrong.”

his hips buck up suddenly, sharp and deep, and you gasp, biting down on his neck to keep from crying out. he hisses through his teeth and laughs again. it’s low and dangerous.

“mmhmm. you don’t like when i fuck you like that, huh? too deep?”

you shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks from how good it feels.

“nah, you love that shit.”

your body shakes as he starts moving underneath you, fucking up into you slow and deep, deeper than he should in a place like this. every thrust got you seeing stars, grinding back down harder even though you told yourself you’d behave.

his hand slides to your stomach, pressing down right where he hitting.

“feel me here?”

you nod fast, whining.

you clench around him so hard he groans, pulling you down with both hands now, guiding your rhythm like he never let you leave.

“still mine,” he whispers. “don’t matter what you say. this pussy still mine.”

you cum with your teeth in his neck, body going limp in his lap while he fucks you through it. your thighs twitch, your voice barely above a whisper, and he holds you down tighter, chasing his own high.

his strokes turn rough, fast, deep enough to make you gasp. and when he cums inside, teeth clenched, you feel every pulse of it.

you stay like that after. still shaking, dress bunched up around your waist, your hands gripping his hoodie like a lifeline. his fingers trace lazy circles on your thigh, breath even, like this ain’t the nastiest shit y’all ever done.

and then you hear footsteps.

your ex-friend finally walking back up the steps with a popcorn bucket too damn big for her arms.

elias don’t move. don’t flinch. just leans forward and whispers against your jaw:

“fix your dress, ma. can’t let her see how deep i got in you.”

⪻────𖤓────⪼

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐕𝐘𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀.

[lov4gor3]

YESSS LIKE TF 😭

okay it's lowkey getting weird why tf yall making oc's that's the daughter of the damn klan.... yeah please wrap this shit tf up.... QUICKY

[lov4gor3]

the way he had his hand on her neck and making her look him in the eyes... yeahh that's DEEP😫😩😩

ꕥ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 ꕥ

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ➤ Elijah “Smoke” Moore

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ➤ after getting high one night, you receive a late text from “Stack” asking to talk. thinking it’s your boyfriend, you dress cute and meet him in his car—only to slowly realize it’s actually his twin, Elijah “Smoke” Moore.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ➤ oh my goodness, hello! since my last Smoke oneshot got some love, i’ve decided to post another one! didn’t know so many people were Smoke girlies/boys! definitely right after this one, ima post my Negan one! enjoy!

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ➤ 8.4k

𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ➤ Smoke, Stack, and Negan.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ➤ sexual content, cowgirl, car sex, mistaken identity, emotional manipulation (Smoke doesn’t correct reader right away), infidelity (reader is in a relationship with Stack), dirty talk, choking kink, dumbification, slight degradation, praise, sub!fem!reader, mild drug use.

═══════ ═══════ ═══════

the smoke from your joint curled up into the ceiling fan like it was trying to leave the room before your head did. your body was loose, sunk deep into the velvet of your couch, hoodie halfway unzipped, nothing but lace underneath. music pulsed low from your speaker—something sensual and steady—blurring the lines of time the way your high always did.

you hadn’t planned on going anywhere tonight.

until your phone buzzed.

[SMOKE: you up? slide on me real quick. need to talk to you.]

your heart jumped before it even registered who it was from. you didn’t think twice. “stack,” you mumbled to yourself, already halfway off the couch. of course it was him. it always was him at this hour, needing something, saying it like it was business, then fucking you like it wasn’t.

your fingertips skimmed your vanity, grabbing gloss, a gold anklet, that little perfume that made your skin smell sweet like heat and honey. your high made everything feel lighter. you weren’t thinking straight, not really—you were just giggly and pretty and a little too eager.

you looked at yourself one last time in the mirror. hoodie still on, shorts hugging everything they needed to, just enough thigh showing to get under his skin.

stack was rough with you. mean, sometimes. didn’t talk much during sex except to growl in your ear or tell you what to do. he didn’t kiss you soft. didn’t look you in the eyes unless it was to say you were his and his only.

so when you stepped outside and saw the black charger parked across the street with the engine purring and the windows rolled down halfway, you walked right to it.

you didn’t notice anything was off.

not the way he was leaned back in the driver seat, watching you slow with those sharp, unreadable eyes.

not the way his fingers tapped the steering wheel in rhythm with the music bleeding from the speakers.

not the way he said your name low and thoughtful when you opened the door.

“get in.”

you slid in, closing the door behind you. the inside of the car was warm, smelled like smoke and leather. he didn’t reach for you like stack usually did. no kiss, no grab at your thigh.

“you said you wanted to talk?” you asked, tugging your hoodie up a bit more, crossing your legs just to tease.

he glanced over at you, slow. his eyes dragged down, took their time coming back up. you missed the hesitation in them.

“yeah.” his voice was softer than usual, deeper, not so fast. “you high?”

you laughed. “a little. why?”

he just looked at you for a long second. didn’t smile. didn’t answer.

his silence made you shift. not uncomfortable—but curious. stack never asked questions like that. he didn’t check in.

“you good?” you asked, tilting your head.

“yeah. just… wanted to see you. needed to get something off my chest.”

you waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. he just looked at you, one hand still on the wheel, the other resting in his lap.

and for a second, the air shifted. something in your chest did too.

“what’s up with you tonight?” you asked. you meant it to be light, maybe even flirty, but it came out a little real. “you actin’ different.”

he didn’t answer that either. just let his gaze flick to your lips, then back to your eyes. his jaw tensed.

“you know,” he said finally, “i been thinkin’.”

you laughed again, softer this time. “about what?”

“you.”

your smile faltered. he looked dead serious.

and the way he said it—low and with so much weight—didn’t sound like stack at all.

you shifted in your seat, eyes narrowing just a little. “what about me?”

his jaw flexed again. then he sighed, slow, like he was working up to something.

but you leaned in before he could say more, your hand brushing his thigh without thinking. your voice went sweet, teasing.

“you finna start some sentimental shit or you tryna fuck?”

his breath caught—just a little.

you thought he was stack. and maybe he knew that.

he reached for you finally. but not the way stack did.

not rushed. not rough.

just fingers on your jaw, lifting your face so your eyes had to meet his.

“don’t play with me,” he said low. “not tonight.”

your high made his words sink in slow.

but your body reacted faster.

and still—you didn’t know it was smoke.

you only knew the way his thumb dragged across your bottom lip. the way his eyes locked onto yours like he was trying to memorize you. the way his voice got quiet and deep and gentle, like this moment actually meant something.

you leaned in before he did. just a little. testing the air between you. breathing it in.

you still thought it was stack.

but nothing about this felt like him.

not yet.

the moment your lips touched his, you felt it—

the difference.

stack never kissed you like this.

this was slow. deliberate. the kind of kiss that made your heart trip over itself, made your fingertips twitch like your body wasn’t sure whether to pull away or climb all the way in.

his lips parted against yours without rush, letting you set the rhythm at first, letting you explore the shape of his mouth like it was new. it felt too sweet. too careful. his hand didn’t slide under your hoodie right away like you expected. instead, it stayed at your jaw, thumb tilted under your chin to keep you there. to hold your face like something delicate.

your brows pinched just a little in confusion as your tongue grazed his. something soft left your mouth—a needy little hum you hadn’t meant to let out—and that was when you felt it.

his breath stuttered. like the sound did something to him.

stack never reacted like that.

you leaned back an inch. your eyes scanned his face.

same nose. same jawline. same full lips.

but his eyes… they looked at you different. like he actually saw you.

“what’s goin’ on?” you asked, voice breathy, low.

he looked at you. didn’t blink. didn’t lie.

“you tell me,” he said, voice just above a whisper. “you came out here thinkin’ i was him.”

your chest tightened.

your hand slowly pulled back from his thigh.

his voice didn’t sound angry. not even smug. just… honest. maybe a little sad.

you blinked. stared.

and then it hit you.

the difference in the way he moved. the way he spoke. the way he kissed.

“elijah?”

he looked away for a split second. jaw tensed.

you’d never said his name like that before. not alone. not while he was holding you like this.

your breath caught.

“why ain’t you say nothin’?” you asked, quiet now. too quiet.

he finally looked back at you. his voice stayed low, heavy.

“you wouldn’t have came.”

you didn’t deny it.

you looked away, but he caught your chin, brought you right back.

“i ain’t try to trick you,” he said. “i just wanted a minute. just one.”

your silence said more than you could.

because deep down, even through the haze in your head, you’d known something was off. you just hadn’t cared. hadn’t wanted to care.

“you still want it?” he asked.

your body answered before your mouth did. the way you shifted your hips. the way your breath caught again. the way you didn’t move away when he leaned in, when his fingers trailed under your hoodie slow like molasses.

you didn’t say yes. you didn’t say no.

but your lips parted.

and that was all he needed.

his hand slid up your thigh, big and warm, calloused at the tips but soft at the base. his thumb circled the skin just under your shorts—teasing, patient. he kissed your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.

then lower.

his other hand came around the back of your neck, pulling you to straddle him without saying a word.

you settled in his lap, one knee on either side, thighs pressing into the leather seat. your hoodie rode up. your chest pressed against his. your lips brushed again.

“stack don’t kiss you like this,” he murmured against your neck.

your breath hitched.

he dragged his mouth lower, kissing down the curve of your throat, warm and wet and open-mouthed.

you whimpered—quiet, drawn out—hands sliding into his hair like you needed something to hold onto.

“mmhm,” he whispered. “go ‘head. make them pretty sounds f’me.”

his hands were under your hoodie now, splayed wide against your back. the way he touched you wasn’t desperate, but it was heavy. intentional. he was soaking you in.

you grinded into him slow, testing his patience, testing the tension in his thighs.

“damn,” he breathed, gripping your hips tighter, pulling you closer. “look at you…”

his eyes dropped down—watching the way your body moved over him.

“this the kinda shit i think about,” he confessed, voice deep and real. “you sittin’ in my lap like this, makin’ all that noise, wearin’ nothin’ under that hoodie…”

you whined again—sharper this time, higher.

his grip on you tightened.

“you get like this for him?” he asked, head tilting. his voice was low, but there was heat behind it now. curiosity laced with jealousy, with want.

you shook your head. “no,” you whispered.

he smirked, just a little. “nah? i ain’t think so.”

he leaned back, let his head rest on the seat. his hands stayed at your hips, but his eyes were on you—dark, low-lidded, full of hunger.

“ride me.”

you blinked.

“what?”

his voice didn’t change. didn’t raise.

“ride me,” he repeated, slower this time. “right here.”

your chest heaved.

he stared at you, unmoving, like he wasn’t gonna ask again. like he didn’t have to.

you reached for his belt with shaky hands.

you were already soaked.

you undid his belt with trembling fingers.

not because you were scared—because you were high, turned on, and starting to realize you’d never been touched like this before.

his eyes didn’t leave yours. not once.

he didn’t help. didn’t rush you. just let you do it—let you kneel over him with your knees digging into the leather, hoodie still bunched around your waist, mouth parted in soft gasps, your hand working down the zipper slow.

when you finally pulled him out, your breath caught.

he was thick in your hand, long and heavy, already hard from the way you’d been whining in his lap. he grunted low when your thumb dragged along his tip, a deep pull of breath leaving his chest like he was trying to keep control.

“fuck…”

you swallowed hard. he was warm. pulsing against your palm.

you looked down, watching your fingers wrap around him—barely closing—and something inside you pulsed in response. a fresh wave of slick flooded your shorts.

you glanced back up at him.

he was just… watching. eyes locked on yours, mouth parted, breath coming slower than before. one hand rested low on your back, the other on your hip, guiding you with that same calm strength.

“take your time,” he murmured. “ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

you whimpered. your thighs trembled.

“you ready f’me?” he asked, tone smooth like syrup, dipping into something more primal. “or you need a lil help first?”

you blinked, lips glossy, hips shifting over him in tiny circles without thinking.

“help,” you whispered.

he smiled. not wide—just a little, just enough.

then his hand slid between your thighs and cupped you through your shorts.

your body jolted.

“ohhh my god,” you gasped, whole frame twitching.

he rubbed you there—slow at first, just pressure. testing you. learning you.

then he eased a finger beneath the fabric, finding that drenched heat and letting out a sound low in his chest.

“damn,” he breathed. “you already wet f’me, huh?”

your head dropped. you couldn’t answer.

your mouth opened and closed, whines tumbling out soft and helpless as his fingers dragged through your folds, teasing your clit with the kind of care that made your back arch.

“look at you,” he whispered, voice husky now, lips brushing your cheek. “grindin’ on my hand like it’s mine already…”

“fuck, it’s not fair,” you whined, hips rocking into his touch, body hot all over.

he chuckled low in your ear. “what ain’t?”

“you talkin’ like that… touchin’ me like that… i can’t think straight…”

he pulled his hand away and you almost cried—until he hooked his fingers in your waistband and tugged your shorts down just enough.

then his hand returned. this time skin to skin.

and you folded.

“stack…”

he froze for a second when you said it.

like he hadn’t expected it.

you blinked, confused.

you were still thinking of stack. still reeling from the kiss, from the silence.

but now? your body was learning the difference.

your moans were learning the difference.

and when he slid his fingers back through your folds—slow, deep, coating himself in the mess you’d made—he leaned in close and said, right in your ear:

“remember it. this me. not him.”

your whole body quivered.

you nodded fast, needy, desperate now.

“please,” you whimpered.

he gripped himself, guiding his tip to your entrance, dragging it up and down through your slick folds.

“sit down,” he whispered. “nice and slow.”

you braced your hands on his chest, thighs trembling, hoodie falling forward as you lined yourself up and sank down.

inch by inch.

your mouth fell open. your head tipped back.

“oh… my… god…”

he groaned through gritted teeth, head hitting the seat.

“fuck—yeah… just like that… take it all.”

you sank all the way down, walls stretching around him so good it hurt. your legs shook, eyes glossy, a broken little whimper leaving your lips.

you stayed there for a second, fully seated, throbbing around him, body trying to adjust.

his hands held your waist, grounding you.

then one slid up your back, fingers wrapping loosely around your throat.

“look at me,” he murmured.

you obeyed.

his eyes were molten. hot and unreadable. he squeezed just a little—just enough for your body to tighten.

you moaned.

he didn’t say a word. didn’t thrust. didn’t move.

he just watched you fall apart.

watched your eyes flutter, your breath hitch, your hands scramble for his chest like you were gonna collapse.

“that’s it,” he whispered. “let me feel all that.”

you started to move—hips rolling slow, tight, the wet drag of your walls pulling slick sounds from both of you.

“so deep,” you gasped.

he grunted, jaw clenched. “ride it slow. make me feel you.”

your body listened better than your brain.

you bounced slow—little lifts and sinks, messy and needy, every drop down pushing him deeper, pressing into spots you didn’t even know stack had never touched.

your whines got louder.

you couldn’t stop.

your mind emptied with every stroke.

“s-so full…”

“yeah you are. look at how you takin’ it.”

he tightened his hand around your throat—not choking, just holding—forcing you to look at him. forcing you to stay there in it.

“good girl,” he whispered.

your eyes rolled.

you felt it creeping up—tight in your belly, hot behind your ribs, legs shaking hard now.

“i can’t—smoke—i’m gonna—”

“go ‘head,” he whispered. “cum on it. i got you.”

you cried out, back arching, thighs clenching, whole body stuttering as your orgasm hit hard and heavy. your nails dug into his chest, hoodie slipping up more, sweat making your skin slick.

he held you through it. gripped your hips and fucked up into you slow, riding the rhythm of your high with his own.

“shit, you so fuckin’ wet,” he breathed. “grippin’ me like you don’t wanna let go…”

your mouth was open, no words coming—just soft, fucked-out gasps, head nodding like you couldn’t do anything else.

“you want it?” he asked, voice shaking now, breath heavier. “you want me to cum in it?”

you nodded. hard.

“say it.”

“yes,” you whimpered. “please…”

“where?”

“inside…”

he growled—deep and rough—and thrusted up harder. once. twice.

then he held you down and buried himself to the base.

“fuuuck…”

you felt the heat fill you. slow. deep. thick.

your whole body trembled again, overstimmed and overwhelmed and still pulsing around him like you never wanted to stop.

he wrapped both arms around you.

held you there.

and you stayed—head tucked in his neck, breath ragged, body soft and warm and full.

you didn’t speak. neither did he.

because you both knew what just happened.

and you both knew it could never happen again.

his arms were still around you.

not in the way stack used to hold you after sex—if he ever even did. no, this was full-bodied. chest to chest. nose against your temple. arms locked around your waist like he wasn’t ready to let you go yet.

you laid there on him, soft and still, hoodie clinging to your damp skin, body spent and glowing. the charger was quiet now. only the low hum of the engine idling. windows fogged, air warm and thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

you blinked slow.

your brain hadn’t caught up yet. it was still catching pieces of what just happened, heart trying to hold onto it, name slipping off your tongue every time you tried to breathe.

elijah.

not stack.

you should’ve felt ashamed. guilty. confused.

but instead, you felt… full.

not just between your legs.

not just from how deep he’d been, how good he made you feel.

but in your chest. in your limbs. in the quiet safety of how he still held you like you mattered.

you shifted slightly. your hips twitched—sore now, oversensitive, still seated on him. he was softening inside you, but the heat he left was still there. thick. lingering.

you exhaled, and he felt it.

“you good?” he asked, voice barely there.

you nodded, cheek against his neck.

“you?”

he paused.

then: “better than i should be.”

your chest tightened again.

but not in fear. not in regret.

you slowly lifted your head. looked at him.

his hair were sticking to his forehead. a bead of sweat was rolling down his jaw. his hand slid up your back, rubbed slow circles between your shoulders, calming. grounding.

your eyes met his.

and there was so much there. so much that shouldn’t have been.

“we wasn’t supposed to do that,” you said softly.

he nodded once. didn’t deny it.

“nah. we wasn’t.”

you swallowed.

your throat was dry. your lips still tasted like him.

“you ain’t say nothin’,” you added.

“if i woulda,” he said, “you wouldn’t have came.”

you didn’t argue.

you knew it was true.

you looked away, but his fingers on your jaw turned your face back to his. gently. firmly.

“you wanted me,” he said. not a question. a fact. “even if you ain’t know it was me.”

your eyes watered. not from sadness. from clarity.

you nodded. barely.

his thumb brushed under your eye. then your cheek. then back down to your lip. slow.

“you feel it now?”

you nodded again.

“but we not gon’ talk about it,” you whispered.

he gave you a slow, deep nod. “nah. we not.”

“stack can’t find out.”

“he won’t.”

your fingers gripped his shirt. you sat there still, pressed into him, heart racing slower now.

“was it just ‘cause i was high?” you asked. voice small. almost unsure.

he paused.

then leaned in close, lips brushing your ear.

“nah,” he said. “it’s ‘cause i been wantin’ you. wanted you when i shouldn’t’ve. wanted you every time he ain’t treat you right.”

you closed your eyes. inhaled slow.

“this ain’t gon’ happen again,” you murmured.

he kissed your temple. once. light.

“i know.”

but neither of you moved.

you stayed there in silence.

still full of him. still trembling from him.

and somehow, even knowing it was wrong…

you didn’t want to leave.

not yet.

not until the feeling faded.

not until the guilt caught up.

not until the weight of his arms disappeared.

because maybe this was just one night.

but it was the first time you’d ever really been touched like you were more than just something to fuck.

and it wasn’t stack who gave you that.

it was him.

elijah.

“just one night,” you whispered again.

his voice was soft, final.

“yeah. just one.”

═══════ ═══════ ═══════

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐕𝐘𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀.

[lov4gor3]

ONE OF THEEEE BEST FICS IVE READDDDD

Speakin In Tongues

2/?

@flaps200 @hermyowney

The juke was thick with heat and sound, blues lappin’ at the walls like low water against a boat. Miss Lucille’s floorboards creaked beneath dancin’ feet, sweat gleamin’ on brows, laughter rollin’ through the room like gospel.

You and Pearl stood near the corner, sippin’ sweet tea turned scandalous with a splash of gin. Your cheeks still carried the ghost of Elias’s praise—she the reason—and your body still remembered the way his voice dropped low when nobody else was listenin’.

But for now, the music moved through you steady, and Pearl swayed beside you, hips keepin’ time like she was born on beat.

Her eyes kept strayin’ to Sammie who was already lookin’.

He sat with his sleeves rolled, mouth full of gold and mischief, legs wide like he owned every shadow in the room. His eyes tracked Pearl like she was a hymn he couldn’t quite hum in public.

“Girl, he lookin’ again,” you whispered, nudgin’ Pearl with your shoulder.

She scoffed but didn’t look away. “He ain’t slick.”

“He waitin’ on a sign.”

“Ain’t gone give him one.”

You sipped.

“So why you wearin’ that perfume he said he liked?”

Pearl nearly choked, eyes shootin’ your way.

“Mind your business.”

You both laughed. But her hand—restin’ light on the hem of her skirt—gave her away. She was nervous. And wantin’.

Then the slow song hit.

Low and gravel-deep. That guitar cryin’ like somebody’s heart had broke wide open and spilled on the floor.

The lights dipped. The room turned soft, blurred.

You stepped back, lettin’ the music move around you. Eyes fluttered shut. You could feel someone movin’ up behind you. Tall. Warm.

He ain’t say nothin’. Just placed a hand light on your waist.

You smiled. “Took you long enough,” you murmured, thinkin’ it was Elias.

But when the other hand took yours—firm and slow—you opened your eyes.

It wasn’t Elias.

Smoke looked down at you with eyes like smolder and slow rain.

“My bad,” he said, mouth curved just a little. “I couldn’t let my brother have all the glory.”

You blinked up at him, startled, caught off guard—but his touch wasn’t rushed. He didn’t pull or push. Just stood there waitin’ to see if you’d stay.

“I—” You looked around, half-expectin’ Elias to come cut in.

But he was across the room, talkin’ to some boys.

Elijah’s hand in yours was calloused and warm. Familiar. His thumb brushed the back of yours just once, patient-like.

So you let him lead.

Didn’t say much. Just danced.

He moved good—gentle, solid—like somebody who listened more than he talked. Like he knew you wasn’t his, but he could still be kind.

“You always let Elias speak for you?” he asked, voice low.

You met his eye. “You always sneak up like that?”

He chuckled. “Only when the music’s good.”

Across the room, Sammie stood now, leanin’ on the wall, watchin’ Pearl like she was a fire he was willin’ to burn in.

She stepped toward him slow, chin high, hair pinned up like royalty.

“Took you long enough,” she said, arms folded.

Sammie grinned, bitin’ his bottom lip a little. “Had to give you time to admire me first.”

Pearl rolled her eyes. “Boy, please.”

He reached for her hand anyway, pulled her into the music like he been doin’ it since birth.

“You roll your eyes one more time and they gone stay stuck.”

She laughed. She laughed, soft and sudden.

He leaned in. “There she go.”

You saw the whole thing from across the room. Saw Pearl’s smile shift into somethin’ that reached her eyes.

And then Elijah twirled you once, hand still in yours, slow enough for you to catch a certain set of eyes watchin’.

Elias.

His mouth was still, eyes unreadable, arms crossed over his chest.

Jealous? Maybe.

But he didn’t move.

Didn’t come interrupt.

You raised a brow at him as Elijah brought you back into his chest, real close.

And Elias just smirked.

Like he already knew your next lesson wasn’t goin’ be in the library at all.

The sway of the music wrapped around y’all like a slow river current—Elijah holdin’ you close, his hand pressed gentle against your back, his breath warm when he leaned down to murmur nothings that almost meant somethin’.

He wasn’t Elias.

But right now? He didn’t need to be.

You let yourself melt just a little into him, ’cause it was easier than admit what your heart really wanted.

Then the shift came.

Footsteps. A shadow long and heavy cut between y’all like a blade through still water.

Elias.

Jaw set. Shoulders squared.

“Elijah,” he said, that familiar smirk slidin’ slow across his mouth, voice low and tauntin’. “You always touchin’ what don’t belong to your ass.”

You backed up a step—not outta fear, but to make it real clear.

“I don’t belong to neither one of y’all,” you said, heat in your voice now. “But since your brother done stole your dance… I reckon I’ll give you this one.”

You turned, slow and sure, and held your hand out like you was royalty offerin’ a favor. Elias took it, slidin’ his palm against yours with a grin that could ruin a life.

“‘Preciate that,” he said low, already spinnin’ you back into rhythm like he’d been waitin’ all night.

He didn’t say sorry. Didn’t ask.

He just danced.

Took up space the way only Elias Moore could, movin’ like he was showin’ the whole damn juke who you really came with—even if that wasn’t true.

Even if not a soul on earth could say for sure where your heart was leanin’.

But then you turned your head—somethin pulled at you—and you saw Elijah still standin’ there. Still watchin’.

And maybe it was the gin-spiked tea still sittin’ warm in your belly… or maybe it was the way the yellow light hit him just right… or maybe it was the smoke curled up high, clingin’ to the ceiling and slippin’ down to kiss your skin.

Either way—you walked back.

Just like that.

Didn’t say nothin’.

You crossed the room slow, your shoes tappin’ the beat, crowd partin’ like they felt it comin’.

Elijah blinked once, surprised—but didn’t move.

You stopped right in front of him. Hands slid up his chest—slow, steady—until your fingers curled soft behind his neck.

You rose up on tiptoes and planted a kiss—light and deliberate—right at the corner of his mouth.

His breath caught.

Eyes flickered.

His hands went to your waist, grippin’ firm like he needed to steady the room.

Behind you, Elias let out a sound—half laugh, half warning.

“Boy complainin’ again,” Elijah muttered, voice low and thick with fire.

You smirked. Shifted just a little closer.

“Well, let’s give him somethin’ else to talk about.”

You leaned up again, aiming for the other corner of his mouth.

But this time… he turned.

Turned at the last second—so smooth—and your lips landed flush on his.

Caught off guard.

Eyes wide.

But you ain’t pull back.

Not ‘til he did.

When he finally broke the kiss, slow and sweet and sure, he looked past you with a quiet satisfaction and whispered right against your lips

“Think you owe the man a dance.”

You turned. Elijah’s kiss still sittin’ on your lips like a secret.

But Elias? He was right where you left him. Leanin’ against the wall like the world owed him patience. Like he ain’t just watched his brother steal the breath right out your mouth.

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t move. Just stared.

That lazy grin was gone now, replaced by somethin’ tighter. Somethin’ meaner.

You walked back anyway.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t apologize.

Didn’t have to.

“You still want that dance?” you asked, voice level, heart not.

He let out a low tsk, pushed off the wall, rolled his shoulders like he’d been carryin’ weight too long.

“You gone ask like I ain’t been waitin’ all night?” he said, already steppin’ in close. “Like I ain’t earned it?”

Your breath caught.

But you ain’t let it show.

He took your hand and pulled you into the music—close. Real close. One arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other slid down ‘til y’all was movin’ in sync, chest to chest, like the rest of the room ain’t even matter no more.

“You bold for that,” he muttered near your ear, voice scratchin’ like gravel. “Kissin’ him. Runnin’ back.”

You swallowed.

“I said I ain’t belong to neither of y’all.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you.

Eyes all fire.

“No,” he said slow. “But you will.”

That made your stomach flip—’cause it wasn’t a threat.

It was a promise.

He twirled you once, slid you right back into him, fingers tight at your side like he ain’t never lettin’ go again.

You lifted your chin. “You mad?”

He shook his head, nose brushin’ yours. “Nah. I’m just rememberin’ how good you look when you full of guilt.”

Your breath hitched.

The music slowed. The floor dipped into a blues so low it made folks sway like they was prayin’. All around you, bodies leaned close, heads bowed, sweat shimmerin’ under juke-light haze.

But Elias?

He looked at you like a man seein’ war and salvation.

“I’m the one you laughed with in the hallway,” he said low. “The one who carried them books. Who learned them damn verbs for you.”

“I know.”

“I ain’t just some mouth with a punchline. You see me.”

“I see you,” you whispered.

“Then don’t pretend you don’t know what this is.”

His hand slid to the small of your back, pulled you in so close, your feet left the floor for a second.

“You mine,” he whispered.

Your mouth parted, but the words caught.

He leaned down, brushed his nose against your cheek, lips hoverin’ near your jaw now—

“Say it.”

You ain’t say nothin’ at first.

Just let the silence wrap round y’all like molasses—thick, slow, sweet with somethin’ underneath it. Elias’s breath was warm against your cheek, but you ain’t lean in yet. You made him wait.

“Say it,” he said again, lower now.

And this time, you let your lips brush against the shell of his ear—barely.

“Maybe,” you whispered. “Maybe I am.”

His whole body tensed. You felt it—like a current run through him. His hand flexed tighter at your back, but he ain’t speak right away.

Didn’t have to.

You already felt what that little word done did to him.

Maybe.

Not a yes.

But not a no neither.

You leaned back slow, just enough to catch his eyes.

“I seen how you looked at me when I wasn’t lookin’,” you said, voice honey-dark. “I heard the way you said my name when you thought I wasn’t listenin’.”

Elias’s jaw clenched.

“You been tryna play it off like it’s just jokes. Like you the clown and I’m just the prize you tease for fun.”

Your hand slid up his chest.

“But that ain’t it, is it?”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

So you smiled—small, just a corner of your mouth—and leaned in close again.

“Say it,” you murmured.

He blinked hard, like the weight of wantin’ finally caught up to him.

“I see you,” he said rough. “Ain’t never stopped.”

“I know.”

And then you did it—you kissed him.

Right where his jaw met his neck, soft and sure, like claimin’ a piece of him nobody else dared to touch. You heard the breath rush outta him, real low, chest tremblin’ just a little under your palm.

But you ain’t linger long.

Just pulled back slow and steady, leavin’ the taste of somethin’ unfinished behind.

He opened his mouth like he had somethin’ to say—but right then, across the room, a low whistle broke through the crowd.

You turned in time to see him.

Smoke leaned against the far wall with a half-drunk mason jar in his hand, one brow raised like he’d caught the whole show.

He lifted the jar your way.

Tipped it in a slow salute.

Didn’t even blink when Elias turned to look at him, jaw tight again.

You stepped back from Elias—not too far, just enough to breathe.

Then, over your shoulder, real casual, you said:

“Don’t start nothin’. Was just givin’ you what you asked for.”

He stared at you like you’d lit him on fire with a match made of your own name.

And you?

You walked off—hips swingin’ easy, that kiss still hangin’ in the air, that maybe still burnin’ in his ears.

And behind you, Elias?

He was still standin’ there.

But now so was Smoke.

And he was smilin’.

Real slow.

Like he knew the story wasn’t done bein’ written.

Not by a long shot.

You ain’t have to turn around to know they was watchin’ you.

You could feel it.

The weight of two sets of eyes burnin’ into your back like the Mississippi sun at high noon. Heat rollin’ off the both of them.

Your skirt swayed just right with every step, silk whisperin’ against your thighs, and Lord—if you wasn’t aware of the power you held in that moment, you felt it now.

You slipped through the juke crowd, hips easy, that smirk still playin’ on your lips, leavin’ Elias with breath caught in his throat and Smoke with a curl to his mouth like he’d tasted the same sweet thing.

Elias glanced at Smoke.

Smoke tipped his head, slow and sure, toward the back room.

Didn’t say nothin’. Didn’t have to.

Elias sighed, jaw tight, and followed.

The back room was quieter. Lit by a single yellow bulb that swung just a lil from the bass rattlin’ through the floorboards.

Smoke was already there, leanin’ against the wall, arms crossed.

“You got somethin’ to say?” Elias asked, voice low.

“Only if you still pretendin’ that kiss ain’t mean nothin’.”

Elias ran a hand over his face, paced once like he had too much in his chest to stand still with it.

“I ain’t ‘bout to go back and forth with you over this.”

Smoke raised one brow. “Then don’t. She kissed you. She kissed me. Seem to me she curious… not committed.”

Elias looked up at that—something flickerin’ behind his eyes like a warning.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like I don’t see the way you be lookin’ at her when you think I ain’t.”

Smoke didn’t blink. “Ain’t no crime in lookin’.”

“Wasn’t just lookin’.”

They both stood there—breath thick, space tighter now.

Then—

“Y’all done?”

Sammie’s voice slid in lazy as a cat through the door, and they both turned.

He was already pullin’ up a wooden chair, spinnin’ it ‘round to straddle it backwards like he been meant to be here all along.

“Damn shame,” Sammie muttered, “watchin’ two grown men fight over a girl like she ain’t got a mind of her own.”

Both brothers stared.

“You real loud for somebody that stay jokin’,” Elias said, half glare.

“I’m serious,” Sammie shrugged. “Y’all in here sweatin’ bullets like you forgot—she kissed both y’all.”

Smoke’s lip twitched.

Sammie leaned in, grinnin’. “Maybe she like both of y’all. Ever think ‘bout that?”

That shut them up.

Both men looked at Sammie.

Then at each other

And for a second, neither said a word.

Just stood there, that thought hangin’ in the air like smoke from a late-night fire.

Sammie sat back, arms crossed now, lettin’ the silence speak. Elias was the first to exhale. Rubbed the back of his neck, eyes on the floor.

Smoke’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t argue.

Didn’t deny it.

Didn’t say nothin’ at all.

And outside, the music rolled on—slow and deep and thick like honey, while somewhere out on that dance floor… you was still swayin’.

Still smilin’.

And still very much in control.

The bass rolled thick through the juke like molasses, each note sittin’ heavy on the walls and pressin’ folk close together. Laughter and gin-tea made the room hazy. Sweat beaded at the nape of your neck. Pearl was somewhere behind you, flush and smiling, Sammie workin’ her over with that charm that came natural.

But your eyes was movin’. Lookin’. Lookin’ for trouble.

He found you first.

Elias.

Shoulders still a little tight from whatever conversation just went down in that back room. But when he saw you dancin’, twistin’ your waist slow with a sway that made folk pause mid-sip—his shoulders dropped. Mouth parted, just barely. That fire in his gut startin’ back up again.

He pushed through the crowd.

Didn’t say nothin’ at first, just stepped behind you real smooth, real close. His hand skimmed your back—light at first, like he was askin’ permission without sayin’ it.

You glanced back.

Eyes already waitin’

“You owe me a dance,” he said, voice low, half a growl under the brass and blues.

You gave him a look, chin tilted like you was still tryna decide. But your hips slowed. Turned. And just like that, your hands found his chest again.

His hand slid ‘round your waist.

Your bodies met like puzzle pieces worn down just right.

Y’all danced

Not wild. Not sweet either.

It was slow. Low. Full of breath and heat and little touches that said more than words ever could. His hands moved from your hip to your lower back, pullin’ you close enough to feel his breath hit your cheek.

“You always smell like peaches,” he muttered against your jaw.

You didn’t answer, just leaned back a little—enough to let your chest brush his when the beat pulsed.

“You always talk this much when you nervous?” you teased.

He smirked. “Ain’t never nervous. You just… bring somethin’ outta me.”

You looked up at him then, the gold of the jukehouse light catchin’ in your eyes. The space between y’all was already tight, but somehow you leaned closer.

“Elias,” you said.

His name in your mouth felt heavier than usual.

He leaned in.

“You know,” he whispered in that slow, wicked tongue, his mouth right at your ear, “Vorrei assaggiarti tutta.

Your breath caught.

Your eyes cut to him.

“What the hell that mean?” you asked, voice barely above a breath.

He grinned, deep and sinful. “Means I been payin’ attention.”

Your heartbeat tripped.

“You play too damn much,” you said, trying to turn your face away, but his hand caught your waist firmer now, just enough to let you know he was right there—locked in.

“Ain’t playin’. Not no more.”

And then he dipped his head down, his nose brushing your cheek, his voice droppin’ even lower:

“Say somethin’ else to me. I don’t care what. Say it in Italian.”

Your mouth parted.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or push him. But what you did was whisper:

“Sei un problema.”

He licked his lips slow.

“What’s that mean?”

“That you a damn problem.”

He chuckled, that low rumble stirrin’ somethin’ deep. “Maybe. But I’m your problem now.”

You shivered.

Right as the song shifted to somethin’ dirtier—horns blowin’ lazy, drums beatin’ like a heart that couldn’t calm—he slid his thigh between yours, pullin’ you just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Elias,” you warned.

“I ain’t even do nothin’ yet.”

But he looked at you like he meant to.

Right then, right there.

And behind all that swagger, that grin, that bold mouth—you could feel it:

He was watchin you. Waitin’ on you.

Like you was the test he wanted to pass.

The record scratched into a dirtier groove—drums hittin’ low, slow, like a body’s pulse beneath skin. Elias didn’t miss a beat. That thigh already set between yours? He shifted it higher, firmer. Pressed it just so, and pulled you with him.

You gasped soft—but didn’t stop him.

Didn’t move back neither.

That leg worked like it had a mind of its own, glidin’ against the inside of your thigh as he danced you deeper into the corner of the juke. Ain’t nobody watchin’—or if they was, you ain’t care. His hands dragged up your spine, real slow, like they knew the map of you already, and now they just revisitin’.

“You feel that?” he murmured, breath hot against your neck. “Ain’t even tryin’, and you ridin’ my leg like you missin’ me.”

You swallowed, tried to pull back enough to shoot him a look. “Elias Moore—”

But he had you.

Had you tight.

“That ain’t a no, sweetheart,” he said, smirkin’, that dimple in his cheek flashin’ like a knife glintin’ under porchlight. “Go ‘head. Keep teachin’ me somethin’.”

Your grip on his shoulders tightened.

Every rock of his thigh made your breath catch just a little harder, like you was tryin’ to pretend it wasn’t hittin’. Like it wasn’t pullin’ that heat from the pit of your belly up into your chest, your throat, your face.

But he saw it.

Lord, he saw it.

“Tell me how to say you like that,” he whispered, barely audible over the horns behind y’all.

You bit your lip. “Ti piace.”

“Ti piace…” he repeated, tongue rollin’ thick over the words like they was sin drippin’ off his teeth. “You do, don’t you?”

You started to open your mouth—maybe to deny it. Maybe to sass him. But then he flexed his thigh up between yours just a little and that answer fell right out in a whimper.

“Mmhm,” he chuckled low. “That’s what I thought.”

One of his hands slid down, over the dip of your back, findin’ the top of your skirt—thumb draggin’ there like he was tryna memorize the hemline by feel alone.

“You keep grindin’ on me like that,” he warned in that lowdown voice, lips right at your ear, “I’ma embarrass myself in here.”

You laughed breathlessly, jaw tight, cheeks red.

“You the one pushed up on me.”

“Yeah,” he said, leanin’ back just enough to look at you. That grin gone now. Just heat. Eyes darker than they was in the classroom, voice slow and sure. “But you the one stayin’.”

Your breath hitched.

He was right.

You wasn’t pushin’ away. You was pressin’ closer.

Hands slid down his chest again, fingertips diggin’ into that tucked-in shirt like they belonged there.

You could hear Pearl laughin’ in the background, Sammie’s voice trailin’ behind her like smoke—but all you could feel was Elias. That thigh. That grip. That look.

“You wanna study me?” you whispered.

He smirked.

“I already am.”

You dipped your head, lips just shy of his jaw.

“Better take notes,” you murmured.

He let out a quiet, throaty groan, barely holdin’ back.

“Oh I am, sweetheart,” he whispered back. “And I’m prayin’ for extra credit.”

The juke was still breathin’ heavy—sweat, laughter, the clink of bottles, the drag of feet on dusty wood. But y’all slipped out like smoke through a screen door. Back hall. Quiet. Lamplight low and golden, flickerin’ like it knew it wasn’t supposed to see all this.

Elias didn’t ask where you was goin’. He just followed. Hand wrapped around your wrist soft, but sure, leadin’ you past crates of cola, past mop buckets and old flyers peelin’ off the walls. His breath stayed close behind you, his chest flush with your back.

Soon as the last door shut behind y’all, he was on you.

Back pressed to the wall, his hand slid under your skirt like he already knew where he was goin’. Like he’d been there before in a dream and remembered the way.

“Ain’t even gon’ play dumb,” he muttered against your neck. “You been temptin’ me since the first ‘ciao bella.’”

You opened your mouth to sass back, but then his fingers found that spot—that lil button tucked up soft and needy—and your voice caught in your throat.

“Oh…”

“Mhm,” he hummed, lips draggin’ down your collarbone, his fingers slow, circular. “You think I ain’t been payin’ attention? Sat through every damn lesson waitin’ to touch you like this.”

He worked it gentle at first, just enough to get your hips shiftin’, breath catchin’ in your throat.

“Tell me how to say right there,” he whispered, mouth hoverin’ over yours, his fingers gettin’ bolder.

“Lì… proprio lì,” you choked out.

He grinned—wicked and full of sin.

“Lì… proprio lì,” he repeated, sayin’ it like a promise as he pressed tighter, movin faster, hittin’ it just right.

Your knees buckled.

“Oh Lord—”

“Don’t call Him now,” Elias teased, voice dark and low. “Ain’t no salvation back here.”

He dipped his head, catchin’ your mouth with his—deep and warm, full of tongue, like he meant to drink the sound of you down.

You whimpered.

That knot inside you already startin’ to twist up tight, unravelin’ slow in the heat of his hand. Your fingers gripped his shoulders, tryin’ to stay steady, but he wasn’t lettin’ you have a moment of peace.

“Say somethin’ else,” he breathed against your lips. “Say don’t stop.”

You did.

“Non fermarti…”

“Say it again,” he said, two fingers slidin’ deep now, curlin’ up right on that spot.

You moaned it.

Said it louder.

“Non fermarti… oh—non fermarti…”

He groaned against your neck, suckin’ a mark into the skin like he wanted to sign his name there

You felt it break—deep, warm, spreadin’ from your belly to your thighs and back again. He held you through it, slowin’ just enough to guide it down sweet, his mouth still workin’ along your neck.

You sagged against the wall.

He didn’t let you fall.

“Hell,” he whispered, eyes wild now, voice husky, “ain’t no way I’m passin’ no class after this.”

You laughed breathless, lips tremblin’, still tryin’ to catch your breath.

“Good thing I’m the teacher.”

He grinned

“Then give me my next assignment, Miss A+.”

You barely got your breath back before he dropped to his knees.

“Don’t you dare—”

“Oh, I dare,” he cut you off, voice dipped low, fingers already slidin’ up your thighs like he been claimin’ ‘em since the cradle. “You been feedin’ me words, rules, that sharp lil teacher tongue… Now I’ma teach you somethin’.”

Your back hit the wall again as he pushed your skirt up, slid your panties down with that slow reverence like they was church linen.

“Mmm,” he hummed, eyes locked on that soaked center like it owed him a debt. “Look at this. Pretty lil peach drippin’ like it’s summertime.”

Then he buried his face in it.

No warning.

No teasing.

Just mouth, hot and open, suckin’ that pearl like it owed him grades and goddamn glory. His tongue circled slow at first, then faster, lips slidin’ wet across your folds like he meant to taste every single damn vowel you ever taught him.

You slapped a hand to your mouth, stiflin’ a moan so ragged it sounded like a prayer.

“Nuh uh,” he said against you, the vibration of his voice shootin’ straight through your spine. “I ain’t lettin’ you be quiet now. You gon’ let ‘em hear what I’m doin’ to you back here.”

Your legs started shakin’.

He hooked one over his shoulder, held you open like a feast

His tongue licked deep now, back and forth, flick-flick-flick, then dragged flat and slow, up through the middle with a moan in his throat like he was eatin’ his favorite meal.

“Ain’t no damn reason you taste this good,” he muttered, then locked his lips back around that pearl and sucked hard—pullin’ it like he meant to swallow your soul.

You damn near came right then.

“Elias—Elias—Elias—”

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, mouth wet and glistenin’. “Say my name like that one more time and I’ma wear this mouth out on you all night.”

He went back in with no mercy—faster, deeper, tongue pushin’ inside you now while his thumb rubbed that button in rough little circles, slick and fast. It was too much.

Too good.

Your thighs clamped around his head.

He loved that.

Grunted into you, suckin’ harder, fuckin’ you with his mouth like he’d been born for it.

And when you broke?

You shattered.

Eyes rollin’, breath gone, mouth fallin’ open in a soundless scream as your release rushed through you like heat lightning across the Delta.

He didn’t stop.

Not till you were twitchin’, legs limp, fingers tangled in his curls like you ain’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer.

He kissed the inside of your thigh slow, then up your hip, up your belly, mouth glossy, breath wild.

“Damn,” he whispered, pressin’ his forehead to yours. “All that from a little study session?”

You were still tremblin’.

Still breathin’ like you’d run through hell barefoot.

He grinned that wolfish grin, eyes full of want.

The room was quiet ‘cept for the beat of your breath and the rasp of his voice as he adjusted himself, groaning low like it hurt to wait.

“Spread them legs,” he murmured. “Wider.”

You did—barely had a thought left that wasn’t his name.

“Bellissima,” he breathed.

You blinked, dazed. “What’s that mean?”

He leaned in, breath warm against your center.

“Means you so fuckin’ pretty down here,” he said, voice husky, reverent. “Could paint a whole picture with this.”

Then he tasted you.

And Lord—you damn near buckled.

His mouth was hot, soft, sure—lappin’ you up like honey straight from the comb. He groaned low, tongue partin’ you like he was readin’ scripture, thumb restin’ just beneath your belly, holdin’ you in place.

You tried to pull back, overwhelmed.

His hand shot up and gripped your thigh.

“Uh uh. Stay still, baby. Lemme finish teachin’ you.”

His voice was thick, breathin’ against your pearl now, lips suckin’ soft then firm, tongue rollin’ slow circles.

You moaned. Loud. Embarrassingly loud.

“Così dolce,” he whispered. So sweet.

You whimpered, hips tryin’ to chase the rhythm he set.

“Say it back,” he breathed.

“W-what?”

“Così dolce.”

You repeated it, breathless.

“Good girl,” he growled, and sucked you deeper, mouth movin’ like he wanted you to remember this every damn time you saw him in class.

Your thighs tremblin’.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow.

Fingers slipped in again, curlin’ just right, tongue findin’ your pearl again while he whispered—

“Come for me.”

“I—Elias, I can’t—”

“You can,” he said, voice firm. “Look at me.”

You looked down and saw him, eyes dark, face buried between your legs like you were air and he’d been holdin’ his breath.

You lost it.

You moaned so hard it cracked through your chest, legs shakin’, fingers clawin’ at the air.

“That’s it,” he breathed, never lettin’ up. “Ride it out, baby. Just like that.”

You came with his name on your lips and your whole soul bare

When you finally stilled, breathin’ like you’d run five miles, Elias rose up slow, mouth glistening, eyes wild.

He leaned in, kissed you hard—let you taste yourself on his lips.

Then smiled against your mouth.

Your thighs still tremblin’ when Elias drew back just a little—mouth slick, fingers shiny under the yellow light, and his face smug with satisfaction.

But you was still twitchin’.

Still open.

Still ready—whether you meant to be or not.

He ain’t say nothin’ at first. Just looked at you like he was readin’ scripture off your skin. Then he dragged two fingers slow through your folds, collectin’ slick, rubbin’ your pearl in tight lazy circles like he wasn’t just the reason your knees buckled not even a minute ago.

You jerked, gaspin’.

“Elias—”

“Shh,” he hushed, voice a husky hush in your ear. “Let me see what else I can pull outta you.”

He was already movin’ before you could think to stop him—mouth back on you, fingers back in. This time, slower. Deeper. Like he had all night to learn your body by feel.

He curved them fingers up, hittin’ that spongy sweet spot like he knew it by name, tongue rollin’ against your pearl like he was tryna taste your soul.

You damn near screamed.

Your hand flew to your mouth, but he caught your wrist and pinned it down next to you

“Uh uh,” he growled, voice vibratin’ into you. “Let me hear you.”

And Lord, you did.

Your back left the wall, eyes rolled up, hips rockin’ into his face like it was muscle memory.

He moaned into you—that deep throat moan that vibrated all through your core, and his tongue didn’t stop, didn’t even slow when your legs started shakin’ again.

“Fuck,” you gasped. “I—I’m—Elias—”

His other hand pressed into your belly, pressin you down, keepin’ you still while he made you come again—louder this time, wetter, messier, until it was runnin’ down his chin.

And he drank every drop.

Right outside the back door, Smoke had just finished the last drag of his cigarette. He was walkin’ past, ‘bout to head back to the juke—

Until he heard you moan.

Loud.

High.

Breathless.

And then Stack’s voice, low and rough:

“C’mon, baby—give it to me again. Just like that…”

Smoke stopped.

Raised a brow.

Smirked like the Devil.

“Mm,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head, tossing the cig.

He tucked his hands in his pockets, turned back toward the juke, and left y’all to it—grinnin’ the whole damn way.

You was still breathin’ heavy when your hands reached for him, slow and unsure, toward the buckle of his jeans. Eyes flicked up, lips parted, just barely whisperin’ his name.

“Elias…”

He caught your wrist before you could go any further—firm but tender.

“Nah,” he said low, breath warm against your jaw. “That wouldn’t be right.”

Your brows drew in, confused, maybe a little shy, but he just leaned in closer. His lips ghosted over your cheek, your ear.

“I done tasted heaven already,” he murmured. “Ain’t finna let you get on your knees in a dusty backroom like you somethin’ cheap.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his hand still holding yours.

“You a lady. And I’ma treat you like one.”

You ain’t even know what to say to that—mouth open, breath caught in your chest. So you just looked at him, blinkin’, heat floodin’ your face all over again.

He kissed your hand, slow, then pressed it against his chest where his heart was poundin’.

“But since we talkin’ favors,” he said, voice droppin’ low again, “how ‘bout you let me do it right?”

Your breath caught, belly tightening at his tone.

“Do what?” you whispered, already knowin’.

He stepped in, his thigh slid between yours again, pressin’ gentle this time. His hands slid up your waist, fingertips ghostin’ the underside of your shirt, not takin’ it off—just feelin’. Holdin’.

“Wanna feel you wrapped ‘round me,” he said, low and reverent. “Real slow. Real deep.”

He kissed your neck, then your shoulder.

“I ain’t in no rush. You gon’ give it to me when you ready—but when you do, baby…”

You shivered.

He leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

“I’ma make you feel it all week.”

[lov4gor3]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ elias ‘stack’ moore | bonded

synopsis. seven years after leaving without a word, elias comes to jackson, mississippi to come see you. and he’s not going to leave you again.

content. nsfw. reader cheats. vampire elias. biting. erm evil elias? idk. manipulation(?) blood mention. n word use. not proofread soz. 2.4K words

elias was the first man you’d ever been with, he taught you everything you knew. how to fight, scam, and talk slick.

all of that didn’t matter to you. you wanted to be with him. not to be him.

occasionally, he’d come to jackson, just to see you. there were no dates set, he came and went as he pleased.

when he had left for chicago without saying how long he’d be gone, you figured he had moved on.

you decided it’d be for the better to move on too.

you met a nice man, steven, a year older than you. he had a stable job and kind words. you liked him, but he wasn’t elias.

even so, you didn’t need to be offered anything special. not if it comes with the same terms and conditions.

he was supposed to pick you up and drop you off like he does every tuesday night. you kept looking out the window, waiting to see his car or him at least.

you wandered through aisles, pretending to tidy up to kill time.

fifteen minutes went by, still no steven. you were getting worried now, considering that he was rarely this late. you had no way of figuring out where he was, but he could hold his own.

just like you hoped, steven arrived. he knocked on the door rhythmically. it was odd for him to do but you were glad he was safe.

you ran from the aisles to the entrance, grabbing the keys.

“steven! where the hell were y-“

your body ran cold, feeling your hands start to shake.

it was stack.

standing right there in front of you like he never left.

“you still workin’ at yo mamas sto’?”

‘this nigga…’

you thought to yourself. stack really had the nerve to show up on your doorstep.

you didn’t know what to do. should you hit him? scream at him? shut the door in his face?

“elias,” you sighed.

“i know you ain’ standin’ right in front’a me. after not sayin’ a damn word to me for a whole seven years, that’s the first thing you gon say?”

you watched him laugh in your face. stack proved to you that he was the same person he was seven years ago. chicago didn’t change him at all.

“chicago ain’t teach you shit.”

you tried to shut the door but he placed his hand on it. laid his palm flat, pushing it back to keep you from closing it.

“ain’ gon’ let me speak tuh yuh?”

“stack, getcho hand off my momma door.”

“allat chicago bullshit was jus’ temporary. i won’t gon’ leave you forever.”

was he really going to sit there and lie? he must’ve lost his mind somewhere up north.

he let go of the door, reaching for a toothpick in his shirt pocket. he popped it in his mouth, keeping his eyes connected to yours.

elias’s outfit was sleek, expensive. just like how he liked all his clothes. he was charming in them; they were part of his scheme.

“seven years is a mighty long time,” you said, your accent still as thick as he remembered. “smoke still wipin’ yo ass?”

“he won’ doing that—“

“don’t sit here and lie to me, elias. your brother is always watching over you.” you took a breath.

“elijah is a good man, ain’ no doubt about it. but you uprootin’ that fast. don’t show me you know anythin’ about bein’ independent.”

he bit his lip, holding a slick comment that he knew you’d shoot down. it was hard to win with you, when you were right, you were right.

“it was good seeing you, stack.” you closed the door, watching him stand there without trying to fight his way in.

part of you was mad that he didn’t try harder. not that you knew if you’d take him back, even if he had.

you wanted him gone by the time steven came but he was still standing there. he was waiting for you to come back out.

“you need tuh go back on tuh clarksdale or wherever the hell you feel like goin’ for another seven years.”

“why i gotta do that?”

“you gon get arrested for loiterin’.”

“so you gon’ let them take me?”

you crossed your arms, scoffing at the question. you walked right into it. you held back a smile, realizing that he wasn’t going to leave without getting something.

“aye, you still got dem cracker jacks?” elias eyed down one of the shelves in the store.

you looked behind you then back at him.

“if i give you some, will you go on somewhere?”

stack nodded, watching you walk over to grab a small box of candied popcorn.

“you ain’t gon’ let me in?”

“stack, i’m closing— it’s late…”

“jus’ fo’ a few minutes… like old times?” he snatched the toothpick out of his mouth and flicked it to the ground. like he already knew you were going to say yes.

you rubbed your forehead before inviting him in.

“come on… don’t get too comfortable.”

you yanked the door open for him to come in. he followed you in, closing it behind him.

“it still look the same in here.”

“you know my momma ain’t got money for renovations.”

he wandered around while you stayed by the counter, eyes never leaving him. noticing how he towered over shelves just like he had before. you weren’t sure what to make of it. the fact that he left would make anyone blow a fuse, but stack had that effect.

he could shoot you in the toe and have you dance for him the next day.

you tried not to fall into his game but you were only human.

“you still sleep in that back room?” he walked over to the counter, leaning on it beside you.

“sometimes.”

“yo’ momma told you tuh stop?”

“she tells me a lotta things… she said you won’ good for me neither.”

you saw stack look over at you, he looked back down at his hands toying with the popcorn box.

“maybe she was right.”

you finally looked over at stack, finding that he was looking at you again. his eyes were big, begging you to listen to him.

“you left me, elias. you don’t get tuh act like that. you walked away— took what you wanted and left.”

“i thought if i stayed, it’d ruin yuh.”

“so you think picking up and leaving wasn’t going to?” your voice stayed the same, no matter how frustrated he made you.

“all them christmases, all them birthdays… nothing.” you chuckled, wiping the stray tear that you couldn’t keep from welling over. your hand trembled against your cheek, and stack saw. of course he did.

“you think that ain’ kill me? every time i tried tuh forget you… i heard you in my head. i came back fo’ you. it won’ nobody else i wanted to see.”

you weren’t expecting him to say that, but you were glad he did. you also had to take what he said with a grain of salt.

“you gon’ let me make it up to you?” stack said.

you didn’t say anything to him at first. you were trying to see past the pretty clothes and the smooth talk. trying to see if that boy who used to love you like the world was ending was still there.

“you really came back for me?”

“ain’ got no other reason to show my face ‘round jackson.”

you searched his eyes, almost like something was struggling not to break through. you stepped forward, reaching for his face. his cheek rested against the inside of your hand.

he exhaled deeply, huffing out a sigh that he had been holding for a long while. you rubbed your thumb against his face.

you moved closer to him, pulling him in at the same time. you kissed him and he tasted of tobacco and sugar. just like you were used to.

elias’s hands spent no time getting his hands on you. he wasn’t in a rush. he kept his hand resting on the small of your back, preventing the edge of the counter from digging into you.

as the kiss deepened you forgot about steven, he hadn’t shown up yet— and you were too drunk on elias to notice.

he kissed along your neck, taking in your scent. becoming intoxicated along with you. your arms went around his neck to keep him closer.

“you smell so good, baby.” he groaned against your skin. he started to pull your dress up, slow, like he was savoring the moment.

his lips trailed lower, kissing the open area of your chest. your hands went to the counter, tossing your head back. he was taking his time and every touch burned your skin light fire. he kept your dress bunched in his fist, his other hand caressed your heat over the fabric of your panties.

“tryna act like you don’t miss me… you still get wet just like the first time i touched you.”

you ignored him for a moment, hating that he was right. it didn’t take long for him to get your attention as his hand slipped into your panties. he felt how slick you were, slipping two of his fingers inside you. he curled them, watching as you folded forward.

“mhm… i know— ain’t nobody touch you like this… not like i do.” he grunted in your ear, thrusting his fingers into you. your hand flew up to his shoulder, gasping into his mouth when he kissed you again.

your hips rolled against his hand, chasing the climax that was inevitable. your breath caught in your throat as his fingers curled again. your walls tightened around them.

“elias…” you yearned, cupping him through his felt pants.

“i know… turn around f’me.” he murmured, he removed his digits and licked the juices from them.

you turned to face the register, placing your hands back on the cool surface. you felt him hike up the dress around your waist and pull down your briefs. “you alright?”

“yeah…” you whispered, desperate for him to be close to you again. you listened to his belt unbuckling, how fast he was lower his pants.

“spit, baby…” he snaked his hand around to your mouth. you didn’t hesitate, you let it drip into his palm like he asked. he wrapped his fingers around himself right after, stroking before lining himself up with you.

he slid into you slow, making you feel every inch of him like it was a promise. your knees buckled feeling his cock stretch you out. “you still fit me,”

his pace built, like he was trying to carve himself back into your body. the counter creaked beneath you while you gripped the wood.

he fucked you like he was making up for every second he was gone. his rhythm hard and steady, he filled you up good. your low moans echoed through the store.

he leaned down, his chest rested against your back, his handing reaching around to grab your breast. “shit… i forgot how good you feel.”

he slammed into you when he felt you clench around him. you listened to the sound of his groans and the whimpers that managed to slip through the cracks. you weren’t silent yourself, you were making all the pretty sounds that he missed.

“fuck— elias.”

the hand that once cupped your boob, came down and began working your clit as he fucked you. you could barely stay on your feet, buckling under him.

“just like that- right there…” you huffed out, barely leaving space between your words. your walls ached around him, aching to belong to him again.

“i gotchu, baby. you got it— cmon…”

as you felt the heat build up in your abdomen, stack went faster. your vision began to blur as he slowed down, he rolled his hips into you. you shuddered feeling his each vein slid against your inner walls.

you came quicker than the words could come out. your body jolted against the counter, your voice breaking into an aching cry. he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. the grip he had on you turned into bruising as he fucked you through it, chasing his own edge.

then you felt his teeth sink into your neck.

your whole body seized; from pleasure, confusion, and the weight of the situation. your hand came up to brush your neck, you look at the blood dripping off the tips of your fingers.

he sighed satisfactorily, leaving your blood on his mouth. he pulled up his pants, not caring about you helping him finish.

“jus’ needed a lil’ taste.” elias taunted.

your breath shook, panic rose in you. “so you bit me? you fuckin’ bit me?”

“it’s gon’ go away.” he shook his head, his eyes began to glow.

if you didn’t think he was crazy before, you thought so now.

you felt your body to begin to give out. “you need tuh leave. cause i got somebody… somebody comin’ tuh pick me up. he-“

“what he gon’ do? i know it won’t that scrawny ass nigga ridin’ in that cadillac…”

“stack.” you were becoming more disoriented from the bite. it took control over your limbs, causing you to fall down to your knees. you looked disheveled, your panties around your ankles and hair uneven.

but you didn’t ignore what he said, he knew steven. you don’t know how he knew but he did. you stared up at him, his words sinking in.

“cause he ain’ comin’… i saw his memories. that fool should’ve never laid a finger on you…”

you pressed your palm to the floor, trying to lift yourself up but your muscles refused. the bite made you sluggish, dizzy, like your body wasn’t yours anymore.

“i told you… i came back fo’ you. won’t no man gon’ keep you from me.” elias bent down after fixing his belt buckle.

your limbs were water, and your mouth couldn’t form the words fast enough. that didn’t stop you from your protesting. “you think you can waltz up in here, take what you want- markin’ me like a fuckin’ dog.”

“i’m markin’ you cause you mine. ain’t no goin’ back after a bite like that.” he muttered, standing up again.

you attempted to push yourself from the floor again, but the room shifted again. you collapsed to the forward, seeing your blood flow onto the tiles.

your eyes found him one last time.

he stood over you, as if there was nothing wrong about this. like he hadn’t torn your life in two.

you parted your lips to speak, but it was too late; your world was already slipping, being swallowed whole by the dark.

all because you let him back in.

[lov4gor3]

Yes lawdddd

I’m Grown

Sammie/Preacher's Boy x Black Reader

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

Warning: Smut, fingering, D in P, unprotected

Word Count: 3.8k+

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

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

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

In the past…

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

Eventually  leading to you and Sammie to become besties. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jump to the end of  Senior year of high school…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But instead, you just held him like a memory you didn’t want to let go of.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now your back home for summer…

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

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

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

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

He was outside. Shirtless.

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

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

You tried to act unfazed...Tried.

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

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

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

You swallowed hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Growth.” You lifted your chin proudly.

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

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

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

You blinked, heart thumping just a little harder.

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

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

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

“Still cocky, I see.”

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

The next morning…

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

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

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

You froze.

He didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

You stepped aside with a sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Flashing that cocky grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

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

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

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


A beat passed.


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

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

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


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

That made your head tilt. “Scared?”

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

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

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

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

“Then show me how much you’ve grown.”

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

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

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

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

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

Your back hit the couch cushions.

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

You didn’t say a word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up,” you panted.

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

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

“Sammie…”

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

“Say it.”

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

He smirked. “That’s the plan.”

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

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

“Still think I’m playing?”

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

He did.

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

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

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

“Look at you… takin’ me so good.”

“Still think I’m that lil boy, huh?”

“Say it, baby. Admit it.”

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

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

“Oh my god—Sammie—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stops.

Just like that.

Your body whines at the sudden emptiness.

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

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

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

Hungrier.

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

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

You squirm. “Sammie—please Sammie!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Who's grown now?” he grunted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist:

@heyyimmisunderstood @marley1773 @sajoi

@melaninbabyboo @hauntedfestivalluminary

@blackpinup22 @milesf4vg1rl @pinkpantheris

@iiiheartfayee @cosmicautomatonshark

@bluejay2503 @omgffs @anaiyaflys143

@pinkpillzsworld @jackierose902109

@serenedragonthought @condenhorn

@thesmutconnoisseur @katsleftnip

@sisi-pink0921 @woahthatshitfat

@cocooned-butterfly @motheroffae

@bumgyalworld @queenbumblebee777

@twistedsistas-stuff @ky1le

@kenziiie @queen-stars2 @sammiesprxncess

@ignotusumbra @goddessofthundathighs

@thickemadame

[lov4gor3]

LMAOOO LITERALLY I screamed so loud like?!!!

Me after clicking a p link thinking it was a fic rec.

Jumpscare.

[lov4gor3]

BENEATH THE SILENCE

───── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ─────

𒋝 Playlist (will add link soon)

Beneath the silence is a fan fic series I created inspired by the Twilight saga and the song Night call by Kavinsky. I cannot find it within me to obsess over something normally without pouring my all into it. So in result of my current obsession this fan fic was born. If you’re anything like me i loveeee a good plot and story line with a sprinkle of freakyness #needdat and dont get me started on a good slow burn !! I hope this fic finds you well !! p.s. this is my first time writing one so please be kind and bear with me also idk how to use tumblr #sos

What to expect !!

slow burn angst

childhood friends to lovers

betrayal, longing, & healing

supernatural mystery

emotional/physical tension

fluff/smut

𒋝 CHAPTERS 𒋝

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

1. My life in a box.

2. Where the silence begins.

3. loading ..

[lov4gor3]

Hand Prints and Good Grips…✱*.:｡✧

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Childhood Best friend!Reader

Trouble brews once Mary walks into the twins’ juke joint, and you just wanna be the girl Elias likes.

wc: 6,102

warnings: porn with lots of plot, jealous!dom!Elias, sub!reader, clit slapping, face-sitting, cunnilingus, unprotected p-in-v, dirty-talk, degradation (not tew much but it’s there), overstimulation (r receiving), rough sex, manhandling, slight tit sucking/licking, marking, creampie (gulp??), language, one klan mention, shitty southern writing

an: HEY GUYS!!! THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC EVER WOOHOO! (ignore how it took me a month to make it, i’ve been going thru it man) i’m literally obsessed w sinners so hopefully i did stack justice! do y’all even read these? anyways

feedback is always appreciated n welcomed <3

Your hair was starting to cling onto your forehead as if you were drenched in sticky molasses.

The air was humid and dry; of course, this was a Mississippi custom, but it doesn’t help that there’s dozens of bodies stomping and prancing around.

Though you can’t complain much, considering that you were right here with them—dancing as if you hadn’t in years.

In a way, you haven't. You haven’t felt a rush of autonomy and euphoria quite like this before.

With everyone being nothing but working busy-bodies, there’s been little to no time to plan big events such as tonight. The lack of excitement has been a major factor too.

Hence why as soon as the Moore twins came back into town with the intention to open up their very own juke joint, everyone was on board.

The pair hadn’t been seen here in seven years.

Seven long, cruel years without the twin you’ve grown to love.

Stack.

Well, he was Stack to everyone else. But to you? He was still Elias. Your ‘Lias.

Seven years without his lingering touches and pearly smiles.

You weren’t the only one that missed him, it seems.

Your sister told you that when she went down near the train station, she was right there waiting for your Elias.

Mary was waiting.

You don’t have a clue as to how she knew he was coming home before you did, considering that nobody from the Delta had heard from him except for you. And a letter from him was rather rare.

Mary had nearly thrown a fit once she saw him; it didn’t help that Elias had turned down her persistent advances.

The lack of contact obviously sent her over the edge.

Apparently she mentioned their former relations; their connection being a secret to none.

You were envious of this; never jealous, but overcome by a feeling of want.

Growing up with the twins meant that the three of you were as close as can be. That being said, though, they looked at you as if you were their little sister. It was fine when Elijah assumed the role of a family member, but Elias?

Just thinking about it makes your heart ache.

You longed for the flirtatious remarks that he’d give off to any and every woman, a night filled with intimacy plagued your mind constantly.

But you got over it.

You had to. Not only for the sake of your friendship with Elias, but also because of his prolonged absence from town.

That’s why tonight—right now, you had to pump the breaks and focus on celebrating the twins’ success.

Speaking of success?

You making your way over to the bar with your wobbly heeled-covered feet was a success. Surprisingly.

“Someone’s been dancin’ a lil too hard, huh?” Annie chortles, looking at you with nothing but sisterly-love, and a bit of amusement.

“Only dancin’ I was doing was during my cooking—nothin’ like this in a while,” you exclaim with bliss through a beaming smile. You huff as you sit down in front of the bar. “Y’got anythin’ good back here?” You motion to the bottles Annie has surrounding her.

“Better than good,” Annie replies before ducking down and searching below the counter.

You brace your hands on the counter and slightly peer over at the woman, but then she pops up quicker than you can plop back down onto your chair. She quirks a brow at you before placing a bottle down in front of you.

“What’s this?” You question; if Annie didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought that it was Christmas morning with the way you were looking at the bottle.

“Authentic Irish beer; straight from the north side of Chicago. Different from the rest they’re sellin’.” She replies. “Your man brought it specifically for you—made me promise I wouldn’t give it to nobody else, no matter how much they was payin’.”

You bite back a smile at her words; you knew exactly who she was talking about.

“He fixin’ to be Mary’s.” Your lips straighten, it’s bittersweet.

“That so? ‘Cause that ain’t what I heard,” Annie muses, making you pause. You savor Annie’s words as if they were your holy grail. Was there a chance that Elias looked at you the same as you did him?

You crane your neck and your gaze is set over your shoulder—over at him.

He catches your eye and he gives you a cheeky smile, to which you return rather eagerly.

You hadn’t had a single nonchalant bone in your body it seems.

Your shared staring was cut short as Mary forced Elias’ attention back onto her, but it wasn’t exactly a hard task for her.

Something about her was just so easy and simple, despite the ring shining on her hand that matched another man’s being anything but simple. The way that they connected even after all these years made you feel as if you swallowed a jar of mud.

After a few sips of beer, you can’t help but let a smile rest on your face. Elias knew you’d love it, and it makes your heart dance.

Speaking of dancing, your dearest friend Pearline struts up to you with a grin that soared for miles.

“What’s got you cheesin’ all hard?” You raise your eyebrows at her, making her giggle.

“Y’know the Preacher’s boy? The one that was just singin’?” Pearline’s nearly jumping out of her skin with excitement.

“Lil’ Sammie Moore? Course I do, why? What’d you do Pearl?” You gape at her and hold her hands tightly in yours.

“Well…” She trails off. “Let’s just say, he showed me he ain’t a boy, but a real man.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of the sockets as you exclaim a Pearline! that could probably be heard for miles.

Pearline gushes, “He made me feel things I ain’t never felt before.”

“Not even with your mister?” You gasp.

“Not even close. And that’s not all,” she pauses before looking around, then leaning in towards you.

“I wasn’t even able to freshen up. He didn’t want me to,” Pearline whispers.

You shout, then look around in embarrassment at your outburst; you shake Pearline vigorously by her shoulders and giggle some more.

You decide to look around the joint, and you coincidentally catch Sammie looking right at the back of Pearline’s frame in utter awe.

You nudge Pearline, and she looks over at him with you. The look that she throws his way is nothing short of flirtatious.

“He looked at ya like he wanted t’take a bite,” you snicker.

Pearline looks at you mischievously, “Funny, considerin’ he already did.” You can’t help but laugh.

“So, y’thinkin’ bout singin’ like he said?” You ask.

Pearline hums, “Maybe. ‘M thinkin’ you should too.”

“No, not happenin’. Not a chance,” You scoff playfully.

Pearline whines and grabs your wrists. “C’mon, sista! When’s the last time you got the chance to do this?” She pouts, and tries hardest to make puppy-dog eyes at you.

“Besides, this could be y’chance to make a move on Stack. Ain't that whatcha been waitin’ for?” She drags.

You falter at the question she poses.

“Tonight’s the night, sista.” Pearline murmurs softly.

It’s crazy how you always get in your head when it comes to him.

The thing is, you weren’t one to throw yourself out there just to entertain a man. No, that just wasn’t your style.

But God—tonight? His suit was fitting snug in all the right places, his grills glimmered dangerously in the dim lighting, and his eyes always found yours, recklessly.

You couldn’t resist Elias Moore.

And right now, you’re starting to wonder if you ever could.

“Y’better wrap that scarf on tight, Pearl,” you say as you grab her arm and start walking with her to the front. Pearline shrills and claps her hands with glee.

You saunter towards the stage with a pep in your step and your arm linked with a perky Pearline. Your heels clack on the wooden floors as you come face-to-face with the band and none other than Delta Slim, who’s now grinning at you.

“Been tryin’ to getcha to sing for years girl, what’s with the change o’ heart?” He questions with a smirk, as if he already knew the answer. You’re sure that he did with the way that his eyes looked past you and towards Elias.

“It’s a nice night, figured I’d try sum different,” you shrug, trying to mask your sudden embarrassment. Pearline intertwines her hand with yours and uses her other one to gesture to the band. You inhale deeply while looking at her; she gives you a look of reassurance.

The patrons of the juke joint grow silent at the sight of you two taking your stances and the band readying their instruments.

Pearline starts humming and you lightly stomp your feet on the stage, starting to form a beat as the band follows.

Elias feels as if his heart was being weighed down by a ton inside of him. He held his breath—scared that the rise and fall of his chest would make him miss the steady view of you: parading around as if everything outside the joint had come to a halt.

You looked completely, and utterly divine up there; moving swiftly and effortlessly, as if you owned the very ground you were stepping on.

You were absolutely ethereal in Elias’ eyes.

And he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t falling even harder for his sugar as of right now. He was the only man that could get away with calling you sugar; he knows it, so does everyone else in the Delta—and Elias can’t help but let his pride swell every time he thinks about it.

Your body sways carelessly as if you were one with the words that escaped your lips, but your eyes are grounded—powerful, even. Speaking of them: your glittering orbs meet his, your gaze nothing short of a vixen’s.

Though, the interlocking of your sights is interrupted when Mary makes her presence known yet again at Elias’ side. He can’t help but sigh at the intrusion.

Luckily, Elias’ ever-growing agitation fades when the patrons of the juke let out their elation around him. The band’s playing picks up, as well as you and Pearline’s voices.

Don’t let it shine, shine, shine once more

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

Everyone chants and stomps rhythmically.

“I wanna sing, like I hear the crickets do,” Pearline sings seductively while peering at Sammy as she struts.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna hoo,” you and Pearline sing simultaneously, harmonizing beautifully as your backs meet and you both slide to a crouching position.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna howl,” the two of you sound as if you were straight out of a folktale—like one of those myths of the sirens that Annie had explained to Elias once before. You and Pearline then reside in a crawl as you look at the crowd with a sense of hunger in your eyes.

Mary gets ahold of Elias’ tie, but he quickly removes her grip from him—without even breaking eye contact with you. He knows she’s interested in spending the rest of the night with him; maybe in hopes of rekindling an old flame.

But how could Elias be interested in another woman when his woman—his sugar—was looking at him so deliciously.

You grin slyly at him, biting your bottom lip before licking your teeth.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna scream,” Pearline sings, as you mouth the three words to Elias.

Three little words that have Elias fucking mesmerized, hypnotized even. You have him in a trance, right where you want him, and you both know it.

Elias wishfully thinks that the pick up in your breathing isn’t just from all the dancing you’ve been doing tonight. He bites his lip at the thoughts running through his mind.

Mary can’t even say that she recognizes the look that Elias gives you, for she has never been on the receiving end like you have been. Her frustration and jealousy boils over, and she eventually huffs before walking away from Elias, and out of the juke joint.

Elias doesn’t mind one bit, and he sure as hell doesn’t when the song finishes and you hug Pearline with excitement as the joint nearly turns upside down. You’re jumping up and down and Elias can’t help but smile til his cheeks hurt.

Elias feels a hand slap somewhat roughly on his shoulder. He knows good and well it’s his brother, with or without the wave of tobacco radiating.

“Came out here after the game finished, saw the way she was lookin’ at’cha, too.” Elijah grumbles.

“Breathtakin’, ain’t she?” Elias remarks breathily, not even turning to his brother—keeping his sights on you, as you hug Slim and the rest of the instrument players.

“Not ‘bout how I feel, ‘s ‘bout how you feel,” Elijah sighs. This makes Elias turn towards his brother.

“Don’t know what’chu waitin’ on, already been years,” Elijah then pauses before continuing, “Don’t be surprised when somebody see what’chu see.” Elijah trails off, almost ominously, and nods his head in your direction.

Elias follows his twin’s trail of sight and spots you: talking to a man he ain’t even seen before. You were beaming, your hair a little frizzed up by the humidity, your lipgloss smudged a little onto your shimmering skin.

Speaking of your lipgloss—whoever you’re talking to decided to rub his finger below your lip to wipe it away. Right now, Elias’ demeanor resembles the snake him and his brother killed earlier: cold and unmoving.

You glance around the sea of bodies, and Elias takes this as a sign. He starts to walk up to you, but not before having to mumble several ‘excuse me’s while side-stepping quite a few people—who seem to not be able to hold their liquor.

He finally reaches you, and he gets a glimpse of you over the guy’s shoulder, who has no idea he’s even there.

“We got a problem?” Elias murmurs, making the stranger nearly jump out of his skin.

“N-nah man,” the man chuckles awkwardly as he faces Elias.

“I reckon we do, since y’talkin’ to my lady,” Elias replies, sizing him up as he takes a step closer to him. The man takes a step back in return.

“I ain’t know, I-I’m sorry, Stack,” the man trembles meekly. Elias only hums. The man glances between the two of you before making himself scarce.

Elias stays in the same spot for a beat, before turning and giving you a look that says let’s go, before walking towards one of the back rooms of the joint. You hesitate, before inching behind him.

“So I’m y’lady now?” You don’t bother to tone down the sass in your voice.

“‘S what I said, ain’t it?” he mumbles, not even looking at you.

You scoff, “Yeah, well, y’got a funny way a’ showin’ it.”

Elias pulls you into a dimly lit room and finally faces you as you stand before him. “What’s that s’possed to mean?”

You narrow your eyes at him before speaking. “Means I saw you messin’ with ole Mary.”

“She don’t mean nun to me,” Elias guaffs. “Why d’ya think she left already?”

You roll your eyes and begin to head out the door you just came from. You’re not sure where this attitude just came from, in all honesty. The moment your eyes met him while you were on stage, it felt as if everything else had faded away, and it was just the two of you.

Maybe it was the irritation caused by Mary that left you in a sour mood now, you’re not sure. You know it won’t be beneficial to you nor Elias in this moment, but you can’t help it.

Elias grabs your wrist before you can get too far away from him.

“She ain’t nun, y’hear?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he almost sounded desperate. You stay quiet.

“Asked you a question, sugar. ‘N with that attitude of yours, I ain’t fixin’ to repeat myself.” His lips ghost the shell of your ear as he speaks, and heat twinges through your stomach. Elias seems to take notice of the subtle switch in your demeanor; he smirks and his chocolate brown irises darken even further.

“I…I don’t believe you,” You almost whisper, but still meet his gaze.

Almost immediately, he responds with, “What I got to do to convince you, baby?” Elias matches your tone, but there’s still a hint of assertiveness conveyed through his words.

You don’t speak—it’s almost like you couldn’t, but you release your wrist from his grasp gently.

Elias’ jaw clenched slightly, but you still spot it. He looks as if he’s pondering his next words.

“‘S not makin’ sense, darlin’. I mean, you were acting like a whore on stage, now you don’t want me to touch you?” He cocks his head at you and your lips part—like it was reflex, and maybe it was. Elias clicks his tongue.

Your breath picks up, and if your mind weren’t turning fuzzy, you would’ve chided yourself for making a fool out of yourself in front of a man—Elias at that.

The man you’ve yearned for longer than you can even remember.

“I ain’t no whore,” you speak, finally regaining your senses.

“That right, sugar?” You can feel Elias’ breath on your heated face, and all you can do is nod in return.

“Y’wanna know what I think?” Before you can answer the question Elias poses, he murmurs lowly, “I think that deep down….You are a whore—and you needa be fucked like one.”

Despite the vulgarity of his words, the way that Elias places his palm across your cheek is soft—loving, even.

You press your thighs together through your dress unconsciously, desperately seeking even an ounce of friction to cool the impending heat between your legs.

Elias takes the hand that rested upon your cheek and moved it to the stiff rim lock that resided on the door’s surface.

Thank god—You’d hate for the likes of someone such as Sammie barging in and being witness to sin hotter than the Mississippi sun.

Elias then starts to walk you back to the table that remained bare in the dingy-lit room, removing his suit jacket and vest, followed by his tie. The backs of your knees meet the edge of the firm table, making you stumble just a bit. Elias takes it upon himself to lay you down onto the table.

You rest on your elbows as you look up at the six-foot-something man in front of you, and you can’t help but swoon. His beating eyes look down at you lustfully—almost as if he were a predator, and you his prey.

It made you weak.

Weak at the hands of a man you’d been waiting on while he had the time of his life in Chicago, with all sorts of Italian customs. Your actions are beyond halfwitted, but you make no effort to straighten yourself out anymore.

Elias takes his warm hands and spreads your knees with ease after unbuttoning his shirt, making you yelp involuntarily at the near-abrasiveness. He licks his grillz and lets out a short, deep chuckle; you feel it vibrate your bones, while he aligns himself so that almost he’s eye-level with your warm core.

“Elias, wait—“ You whimper meekly,

He hums disapprovingly, letting out a firm ‘mm-mmn’. He rips his gaze from your thighs to your eyes, “Been waitin’ for years, sugar, not sure if I can any longer.” He repositions his hands, lifting your dress and hitching it up to your upper thighs, nearly to your pelvic bone.

Elias massages your thighs with an iron grip, it’s not yet rough, but not exactly gentle either. His switch between the two is making your mind reel.

He kisses up from your knee almost to where your dress bunches up as he removes his button-up, leaving him in his undershirt. He then says, “…So, m’sorry if I lose m’manners,” he breathes hotly against your skin, “But I don’t think I can live without destroying this pussy for a minute longer.” He damn near groans.

His mouth hovers above your clothed cunt—he purposely breathes in a way that makes you squirm at the feeling you’re unable to run from. As you shudder and tilt your head back, you suddenly hear a rip and you feel a gust of air.

You gasp and look down, where you’re met with Elias looking up at you cheekily, with one half of your panties in his mouth, and the other in his hand.

“‘Lias!” You exclaim.

Elias feigns innocence, “Told ya I ain’t mean no harm.” He then averts his focus to your legs, and he leaves a kiss to your mound.

“Y’not gon let me freshen up, will ya?” You ask quietly, already knowing the answer.

Instead of answering, Elias takes his tongue and trails it from your hole to your clitoris, and you puff out the air you didn’t know you were holding in.

Elias seems to enjoy your reaction, for he then gives you another long lick.

And another,

and another,

and you guessed it, another.

You press your lips together, muting your sounds, and Elias ‘tsk’s at the sight.

He nips a bit of the skin next to your lips, making you choke on your own spit. “Don’t like how quiet you’re bein’.” Elias reprimands you.

“Stop t-teasin’ then,” You manage to huff.

Elias chuckles in disbelief, “Wanted to be gentle, but y’makin’ it hard,” he then lifts you up from the table, and places his back where you once laid. He hooks your legs over the sides of his head, your pussy now inches away from his plump, shining lips.

Elias’ typical, million-dollar smirk is back on his face, but there’s something more sinister behind it—your legs would’ve buckled if he weren’t holding them.

“You’re a whore, jus’ like I said y’were.” His southern drawl makes your stomach twist in knots, despite the familiarity. Before you could get a word out, Elias placed you onto his face.

You mewl at the feeling of his tongue swirling around anywhere, and everywhere.

Your clit, your lips—it was almost as if he were starving.

There was no rhythm, no harmony and contentment, just the actions of a man on a mission.

A mission to make you scream louder than the birds on your farm.

Then, abruptly, Elias leaves a small, yet firm slap to your clit. “Admit it,” he says between licks. “Admit that you’re a whore.” He leaves another slap.

You don’t respond, too caught up in both the pain and pleasure. Your head hangs back and your eyes are clenched shut, and Elias grows impatient.

He removes his mouth from you with a ‘pop’ and almost snarls at you, “Thought I told ya Ion like repeatin’ myself.” He slaps your clit again, this time with more force.

“Okay—Okay! I was bein’ a whore tonight, ‘m sorry!” You cry out as your back arches.

Elias starts to lower you towards his grinning face, and you shiver at the feeling of his cold grillz.

Instead of teasing kitten-licks, Elias sucks at your slit and lets his tongue roam freely, without a care in the world. You writhe and whine on top of him, your body bending back and creating a dull aching sensation.

His advances are relentless, and you have no chances of escaping his grasp; he readjusts his grip as soon as he feels you start to slip away from him. You don’t know whether to clench around his tongue as he fucks you with it, or to cry–you end up doing both, and this continues on for who knows how long.

You’ve stopped counting the number of orgasms you’ve had after the second one–you think–but you think Elias has been keeping track. He’s muttered ‘jus’ one more, sugar’ maybe three times now, and you don’t know how many you have left in you at this point.

After what feels like hours, Elias finally lifts your hips up, allowing you to slide down and straddle his hips with your head resting upon his chest.

The beating sound of his steady heart fills your ear, and you try to match your breathing with Elias’. You feel a vibration as he shakes with laughter. You slightly drag your head up just enough to peek at his face, and he looks down at you with amusement.

“We ain’t done, not yet, peach,” he chuckles breathily at the wave of surprise that washes over your face.

You fumble with your words, “What d’ya mean? ‘L-Lias, I-I’m spent!” You continue to tremble in his arms.

“Y’still talkin’, ain’t ya, sugar?” He scoffs, it’s antagonizing. And before you can utter anything else, Elias flips you around onto the table, so you now lay with your back on the wood once again. Your dress rides down a tad at the sudden movement, and Elias holds your back, lifting you so that he can push your dress up past your breasts.

Elias lowers your back, before leaning peck your nipples. You bite your lip, but quickly let out a moan once he blows air onto your nipples, watching almost menacingly as they harden. One hand tweaks one of your nipples, as the other drags down your rib cage.

His hot, glistening tongue swishes around your tits, as he leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

He sucks harshly as you whimper beneath him. One of his hands leaves your body and goes down to his slacks, he unbuttons them with ease without even looking, as he continues to leave hickies on your chest.

He untucks himself from his underwear, and you can’t help but buck towards his cock in anticipation.

“Easy, girl. You’ll get it when ya prove y’deserve it,” Elias mocks, you whine in response.

“I deserve it, more than anybody else–y’know that, ‘Lias,” You plead in hopes of him giving you what you want.

“That right, baby? All this yours, nobody else's?” He challenges, starting to stroke his length.

You squeeze your eyelids together, almost as if you were personally pained by the question.

“Damn right,” You huff as you look at him with a sudden wave of fire blazing through your eyes. Elias scoffs with a mixture of incredulity and mirth.

“Yeah, baby–always been yours. Glad ya finally came to y’senses.” And with that, Elias pushes inside of you, and you let out a broken gasp.

Elias quickly finds his pace as he thrusts in and out of you rapidly. He nearly pulls entirely out of your dripping cunt–and you think he’s going to tease you again, but he then slams back into you roughly, making you cry out as your back arches into him.

You’re now chest-to-chest with Elias as he continues to pump into you with little regard to your overstimulation. The contact of skin makes your toes curl in your heels. Elias grunts at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock and bites forcibly at the flesh of your neck.

Elias groans–almost as if fucking you were the key to heaven’s gates. He takes his large palm and pushes it down onto your torso, making your sweating body meet the barely-covered, rumbling wood.

You weep helplessly and squirm as he keeps you pressed against the shaking table.

“Mmnf–”Lias! Please!” You cry yet again, but without knowing the reason behind it this time.

He doesn’t respond to your watery blabbering, instead putting your legs on either side of his shoulders. Elias slowly–and almost lovingly–kisses your ankle, before unclasping the latch of your heel and sliding it off of your foot, letting it hit the floor with a thump that neither of you seem to catch through the sounds of your bodies meeting.

You two damn-near become one.

He repeats his actions on your other leg, but this time he kisses from your calf to your ankle before removing your heel and letting it meet the ground with your matching one.

His hand grips at the ankle he just kissed, using it as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded; like an anchor. He then sucks and nips at your leg, quickly marking just above your ankle with a red bruise, which you know will be purple by the time the sun rises for morning.

You hiss when he bites a little too roughly, and he shows his sympathy by licking at the irritated skin, soothing the tender ache.

“That feel good, darlin’? Tell “Lias how much y’love it, peach, c’mon,” Elias coos, lifting his shirt up so he can get a proper view of your sex.

You babble through sobs intelligibly, mewling something along the lines of ‘so so good, ‘Lias!’—at least that’s what Elias makes of it.

“Can’t hear ya, baby. Ya gotta–fuck! Ya gotta speak a ‘lil louder f’me, hm?” Elias manages to speak through his panting and groaning. You bawl, hot tears dripping from your cheeks down to your chin.

“It feels so good–oh god—‘Lias!” You shriek, not caring about the volume of your crying. “Please don’t stop! Please, please, please–” You ramble with a slur.

If Elias ever felt guilty at the way he man-handling you, seeing your fucked-out expression made all his worries wash away at the sight of you: tongue hanging out, as your tears dribble into your open mouth.

Your panting grows more frantic, little ‘uh-uh-uh’s being let out more frequently as you feel another orgasm course through your veins. “‘Lias—cummin’! S-sh-it, I-I’m cummin’!”

Elias firmly plants his feet on the floor, repositioning the arm on your stomach onto your other leg so that he can fuck you even deeper–deep enough to create a slight bulge in your stomach with his throbbing tip. “Yeah, that’s it. Fall apart on this dick, y’know y’want to, sugar. Been dreamin’ ‘bout it f’years, huh?” He taunts.

You try to answer him, honestly! But he’s hitting your cervix just right and his abs rub against the backs of your thighs–it’s too much.

Elias thought you’ve learned by now that he doesn’t take silence for an answer, so to remind you, he gives your spent cunt a more forceful slap than before.

“Fuck—Yes! A-always been wantin’ you, ‘Lias,” you wail. “I-I never let nobody touch me! Nobody but you!” You exclaim without thinking.

This fuels Elias to quicken his pace; he almost fucking growls at your words, and he tightens your legs around himself–right now, as he feels himself getting closer and closer to climaxing, he has no plans on pulling out.

He continues to heave words of encouragement as fucks you ruthlessly through your orgasm.

You moan and blabber as your vision turns white, and your ears start to ring. Your toes curl and flex, and your nails scratch at the table, hands desperate for something to hold. Your voice then gives out, as your tongue lolls out of your mouth yet again.

Elias gives you a few more earth-stattering thrusts, before his seed fills your puffy, aching hole; the guttural groan that leaves his throat ups in pitch–nearly turning into a whimper.

He pumps his cum into you once more, before releasing your legs from his grip and laying down on top of you. As he half-lays-half-stands against the table, he feels as if a cold bucket of water was dumped onto him.

He can no longer focus on the tingling feeling that shoots from his skull to his toes, but now on the fact that he was the first man you’ve been with.

You spent your first time with him–in a rickety building he bought from a Klan member, on an even dingier table.

Elias then taps your face, just enough to get you to come back to your senses. You open your eyes with a lazy grin at the feeling of his seed mixed with yours, but when you’re met with his panicky expression, you quickly push yourself up–to the best of your ability.

“What? Wha’s wrong, ‘Lias?” You question worrisomely.

He allows himself to catch his breath before speaking, “Y’serious?” It’s all that he says.

You furrow your brows and tilt your head at him, “Bout what? Y’scarin’ me, Elias,” you chuckle awkwardly.

Had you said something you shouldn’t have?

A million thoughts run rampant throughout your mind.

“‘Bout all this,” he flails his hand, motioning to where your bodies had just met. “Was that really ya first time?” He speaks loudly, and you feel mortified.

Your breath catches in your throat. You confirm his worries, your voice softer than a freshly picked feather, “Yes.”

Elias takes a step back, and it takes everything in you not to reach out for him. Instead, you sit up fully and push your dress back down to your thighs. You twiddle your thumbs idly, seeking for even an ounce of comfort as Elias pushes his shirt back down and tucks himself back into his boxers after wiping himself off with a rag. Despite his glowering, he hands you a rag so that you can wipe away the slick from between your thighs.

Did he regret spending the night with you? Did he find the fact that you remained a virgin because of him embarrassing?

“Why you ain’t tell me, girl?” He exclaims, “I wouldn’t have said and done all that foolishness if I knew you ain't never been with a man before!”

You feel your soul come back into your body. “You would’ve been all sweet with me? That whatcha sayin’, ‘Lias?” You can’t help but giggle.

“Ain’t nothin’ funny, woman! I was all rough with you ‘n–” You cut him off with a kiss to his lips, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him closer to you. You fold your arms around his neck, and you feel his hands drift down to your waist and squeeze lightly. Your nose nudges his, his breath fans your face as yours does his.

You break the kiss when you feel yourself losing your breath, and you gaze at Elias lovingly.

“You were perfect, I couldn’t imagine it any other way,” you whisper.

“Well for starters, could've gotten you a bed in the house ‘stead of a table in this dark ass room,” Elias grumbles.

You grin, “I think the lightin’ was just fine. Added ambience ‘n all that.” Elias pouts, and you peck his lips.

“I don’t care ‘bout the details, “Lias. Long as it was with you.” Your tone is as sweet as the finest honey in Clarksdale, and it pulls on Elias’ heartstrings.

“Y’really waited all these years….For me?” He whispers.

“Course I did, couldn’t imagine bein’ with anybody else.” You speak just as softly. You recognize the guilt that crosses his face, despite his best efforts to mask it with his bravado. “Don’t feel guilty, please. I don’t blame you for nun.” You caress his hair. Silence fills the room as Elias deciphers what to say, you just hold him tenderly until he’s ready.

“I-I love ya, more than y’know, sugar…” He trails off before finishing his sentence, “I jus’ want ya to know that. I have since we was young.” He looks at you with adoration and love in his eyes.

“I love you too, Elias Moore. Have since you stood up to my daddy on his farm f’me when we was seven.”

He smiles, but it’s tight lipped, making you frown. “Jus’ wish I could’ve admitted it sooner. Then this would’ve went down differently—would’ve been better.” He sulks.

You take your thumb and index finger and pluck his lips, making him shout ‘hey!’ with a laugh.

“Stop beatin’ y’self up, Elias. I told you, I’m perfectly happy here, right now. Ain’t nun gon’ change that a bit.” You scold him.

“If ya stop all that moppin’, I’ll let ya try again tomorrow, however y’want,” you giggle mischievously. Elias’ eyes light up almost immediately, the way he perks up reminds you of a puppy that was just given a treat.

Elias roars with laughter and squeezes you, before lowering you back down onto the table, he presses nearly all of his weight onto you.

You squeal and cackle as he tickles your sides, “‘Lias!”

You lay wrapped up with Elias, you felt as if you could lay there forever, and honestly in this moment, you wanted to.

Clarity and revelations do the body good.

Everything was good.

Until you heard a commotion on the other side of the door.

[lov4gor3]

I would've licked it off

Imagine Stack or Smoke taking a shy thick girl’s virginity!

how about... smoke and stack? 😼

cw : oral sex, fingering, taking turns, unprotected (he pulled out), it's painfully obvious how much I need them both-, spit play (stack loves spit play its canon), not proofread, english isn't my first language

"so... how is this even going to work..?" you questioned. and honestly, reasonable. because seeing the two twins walk towards you on the bed, one loosening his tie while the other was already working on his belt, is something worth questioning.

smoke held an arm out to stop stack—who had been rushing to fasten his belt— in his tracks. "don't get ahead of yourself," smoke ordered and stack groaned, letting out a low, honey-coated laugh. "we're here to fuck her, yeah? why you stoppin' me?" "It's her first time. we can't rush it." you squeezed your thighs together at the interaction, whining.

their attention turned back to you as smoke made his way to you, finally kissing you into the pillow your head was resting on.

he leaned in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. his hand brushes your jaw, gentle at first, then firmer, anchoring you to the moment. your heart stumbles as his mouth meets yours—slow, searching, then deeper, urgent. his lips taste like heat and want, and when he presses closer, it's as if the rest of the world falls away.

you respond without thinking, your fingers clutching his shirt, needing him nearer. the kiss burns—soft and rough all at once—leaving you breathless, undone beneath his touch.

as if on cue, while smoke kissed you, stack made his way to between your legs that he peeled open softly while gripping the flesh of your thighs for underneath your skirt. he hiked it up and kissed his way up your inner thigh, the proximity to his goal arousing him.

smoke pulled away, his hand snaking to underneath your top as he massaged your breast, his hand following your chests up-and-down movement. before you knew it, stack had pulled your underwear to the side, and you jumped when you felt his tongue lick a long, teasing stripe up your slit.

"o-oh my- what are you-!?" your cheeks heated up when you felt him smile against your cunt. you could not see him, as he was underneath your skirt, but the sensation of his warm breath on your now exposed skin had you throbbing. "you better not be messin' around under there, stack." smoke warned, which earned him another chuckle from the twin. "you'd be surprised."

smoke went back to distracting you from the overwhelming sensation of stack eating you out, pulling top down your shoulder to expose your breasts more. he leaned in once more, "may I?" and you nodded, before his lips landed on your nipple while the other one was being rolled between his finger tips.

"oh lord- my gosh! shit-" you kept cutting yourself off with your own moans, each sensation one upping the other. the feeling of smoke's warm tongue against your nipple had your back arching, aching for more.

but what you really felt was stack's eager tongue on your cunt. he was licking up and down, the tip of his tongue bumping against your clit which had your hips bucking slightly. he kissed the bud softly before diving in completely, sucking on it harshly which had you whining. then, he angled his head lower, and his tongue penetrated you slowly. you gasped, not used to the feeling of penetration.

smoke took advantage of your opened mouth and plunged two rough fingers inside it, pressing against your tongue as you instinctively sucked on them. "you feel that? you feel him making you feel good, sweetheart?" he began and you clenched around stack's tongue, making him grin.

"look at you, baby. we just began and you're already whining." he leans in to kiss your cheek, "ain't you lucky that we're the ones taking care of a sweet girl like you? huh?" you nodded eagerly, moaning around his wet fingers when you felt stack's tongue curve onto itself, grazing a spongey spot with its tip that had your eyes rolling back.

"you got a finger in?" smoke turned to stack, who pulled away from your cunt to hike your skirt up higher, completely exposing your lower body. he was sweating, you noticed. "nah, just my tongue. I'm about to put one in, though." smoke nodded, turning back to you, only to see that your eyes have already rolled back again—stack put a long finger inside, and he was unforgiving. his pace was relentless, quick and easy, slamming his palm onto your clit.

"go easy on her, yeah?" smoke instructed as he took your top off completely, exposing your chest and tummy. "just what I wanted to see..."

"it's so good! oh my- fuck, I'm-" he did not slow down one bit, even slightly speeding up just to pull more of those pretty sounds from your mouth. he felt your walls clamp down on his fingers and nodded to smoke who kissed you again, distracting all your senses.

you felt overwhelmed in the best way possible, and it's the moment you realize that, that you feel your first orgasm washing over you. it's felt intense, every muscle in your body tensing up as your mouth went slack, barely having the spirit to kiss smoke back. "thats it baby, youre doing perfect." he egged you on as your velvety walls clenched around stack's digits, coating them with cream.

your thighs, trembling, clenched around his hips, caging him in.

he kept pumping, getting progressively slower, letting you ride out your orgasm, before stopping completely when you go limp. he didn't want to overestimate you on your first time... not yet.

he allowed you to catch your breath, using that time to take your skirt off completely. you were now completely bare in front of two men who looked at you like you were the first meal they had on their table for years.

"that wasn't so bad now, was it?" stack looked at you, chuckling. you nodded sheepishly, "y-yeah.."

suddenly, smoke left your side, quickly getting replaced by stack. "here it comes, sugar." he smirked while watching his brother undo his belt, letting his pants drop. he pulled his cock out, rubbing it along your slick folds making you jump slightly. "she's so fucking wet..." he commented also absentmindedly, which had you clenching.

"you ready?" smoke asked you, and you nodded. you felt embarrassed, flustered, but you couldn't take you eyes off of the man that was about to take your virginity.

the push of his cock against your entrance knocked the wind out of you, and before you could recover, you felt two moist fingers tap against your cheek. you looked up to stack, "wanna taste yourself, baby?" you furrowed your eyebrows, "huh?" your voice being barely above a whisper. his thumb landed on your bottom lip, pulling it open softly and your followed, opening your mouth as clear saliva dripped down his mouth into yours.

the moment the drop of spit landed on your tongue, smoke had bottomed out, his tip bumping into your cervix which made you cry out. "you fully in?" stack question and smoke, lost in bliss, nodded eagerly while closing his eyes, throwing his head back. "holy fuck-" he couldn't help the buck of his hips as he grabbed onto yours, using his knees to dig into the fat of your thighs and pry them slightly more open.

"p-please-" that was the only confirmation he needed to start moving. he went back and forth, relishing in the feeling of your warm untouched walls around him. stack walked up to him and set a hand on your tower tummy, pressing down to heighten the sensation of smoke's dick inside you. you cried both of their names out, your body squirming uncontrollably.

stack other hand landed on your pussy, fingers immediately looking for your clit, rubbing it quickly when he found it. "r-right there! yes-!" you whined, as smoke's tip bumped into that one spot again.

"there?" his voice, baritone, bubbled from his chest as his body ran on pure instinct, angling your hips in a way that made him ram into your g-spot with every other thrust. you nodded, your voice simply dying down as you ran out of breath with all the moaning and whining.

stack pressed down a bit harder on your tummy, his hand making a wave motion to even out the sensation. "you like that, sugar?" "fuck- yes! I'm- I'm close- gonna-" and you barely got the opportunity to warn them before you creamed on smoke's cock again, squeezing down on his so hard he had trouble moving again. the view and sensation of you orgasming had him nearing his own high.

you whine when he pulled out of you to fist his dick, stroking himself fast enough to cum all over your tummy with some of it landing on stack's hand, squeezing around the base to ride out his high with a hiss. he moaned your name before tumbling back and plopping down onto the bed.

"s-shit... that was-" "smoke are serious right now? learn how to aim, man." he peaked at stack who was shaking his hand in the air, "some of it got on my hand! fuck," he walked out the room to grab a tissue.

smoke's arm wrapped around you as you were still catching your breath, mind still hazy from the orgasm.

"that was... amazing..." you managed to admit between breaths and he smiled.

"I know, baby."

[lov4gor3]

Yes LAWDDDD

i’d love to be right there in the middle 😊.

[lov4gor3]

Can you do a Clark Kent x reader having to deal with working at the daily planet and Lois vying for him even though he only has eyes for you. He loves your brown skin and different styles you rock. I’m a black reader so thank you for sharing your writing.

imagine clark as your coworker

Swallowing thickly as you leaned your head on your fist. Huffing out a sigh, the continuous ticking of the clock, footsteps of your coworkers and the chattering from the Daily Planet News Channel are all pounding on the inside of your skull. You pushed your glasses up higher on the bridge of your nose as your eyes scanned over the rough draft for the next column. You absolutely hated proofreading, such a tedious and straining job for your eyes. All the overstimulating noises not helping.

And of course a bumbling fool had to prance his way to your desk. You heard the knock against the cubicle but you hoped your hair was big enough to drown out the noise.

"Yes? Do you need something?"

A small corporate smile is plastered on your face as you glance up at the familiar man. A soft glance hiding your underlying annoyance by the intrusion. Looking behind the man for a quick moment, you see two spectators focusing on this interaction.

"I haven't seen you around this floor before. I was thinking we could grab some coffee. I could show you the ropes."

Pupils flickering back to your coworker in front of you, your eyes drop. From a friendly and warm aura to pure annoyance. Inhaling through your nose and out your mouth, you flash a quick smile. The classic white man burden scenario.

There is truly only one way to clarify and shut down this run in. You've tried a number of different approaches but this one seems the most effective...and the most fun. "I've been working here for three years."

You don't know what was more ironic about the setting: your deadpanned voice, his rosy cheeks or his curt nod and awkward walk away. You bathe in watching the confidence drain from a mans face. The shocked look from the somewhat new information and the simultaneous switch from your corporate personality to your regular 'no bullshit' attitude.

You don't understand how a new hairstyle was an indication of being a whole new person. You still had the same face. Maybe that was all white men logic, you thought. But that was an unfair stereotype. There was one man you knew of that noticed. He noticed practically every minuscule thing about you. A tall, stereotypical, blue eyed, dark haired gentleman. He was sweet and sort of awkward but so very easy on the eyes.

"Hm? Oh, no. I'm not going home for the holidays."

The simple question, set the scene for what Clark would ask you next. He waited to get you in the break room alone to ask and clearly you thought nothing of it. But before he could follow up.

"I love going home for the holidays!"

An interruption. You gave a small smile to her but he sighed.

Lois.

Always annoying. Always showing up at the wrong time. Oh, how he hated when she'd simply...'pop up'. Clark pushed up his glasses as he still kept his gaze on you. Refraining from saying anything that would create an awkward situation for you.

"No boyfriend either? I assume."

You only chuckled at the question and he sported a calm smirk. Ignoring the ugly cackle in the background. You provided him all the correct responses. No holiday plans? No boyfriend? He had another question in mind but Lois was continuously interjecting and talking over you. So much so that he couldn't get a second to ask you directly.

Talking to Clark for one more moment, you glanced to the side and notice your other coworker come up to your desk. Excusing yourself from the conversation, you hurriedly leave the break room and met them. He watched the way you stride around your desk in that pencil skirt. Your low heels adding a particular sway to your hips as you leaned over and flipped through flies on your desk. You bent over just right, enough for him to have a peak at that scandalous bra you wore and as if on queue, she speaks.

"Finally! We're alone. So, I was wondering if we could-"

The moment she closed her eyes from immense nervousness, he bolted. Anyone could tell he had zero interest in that overzealous woman. Anyone but her.

It wasn't long until Clark found you again and you were flipping through more papers. He always admired how hard working you were. How you'd apply yourself to everything you did. It was inspiring. It makes him think of how you would be if domesticated. A terrific mother, he thinks. And probably an even better wife.

"Clark?"

Your soft voice snaps him out the thought and he perks up.

"I don't mind it. I'm just not that seasonal. Compared to you anyway."

Like he gives a damn about what you'd be wearing.

"That won't be a problem. Look as pretty as you do and that'll be seasonal enough."

He could feel his stomach flex at the smile you give him. His cock stiffening in his slacks as his eyes scan over your facial features in the sweet moment. Even though he was fully engulfed in your laugh and grin, he still had many things to take care of.

The nuisance. That passive aggressive and flirty coworker. And lastly you.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than life itself.

He needs you full of life and his seed.

He needs you to be his wife.

But he can wait one more Christmas before making that happen.

At least. He hopes he can wait. Because if he see's you with those beautiful braids, he doesn't know if he can resist the scene of fisting them while he pounds into you from behind.

a/n: I'm not going to lie you guys I'm lacking inspiration at the moment but I'm still going to do my best to get through all the asks. thanks so much for the support!

more writing

short stories here

[lov4gor3]

I need more stack x black reader and smoke x black reader.... like?!!!! yall know I love me some remmick but uhhhh where the love for the twins 😫😫😫. And lowkey remmick writers starting to lowkey drive me because why y/n giving oc?!

[lov4gor3]

MIRAGE MASTERLIST

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 5.1

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Coming soon

[lov4gor3]

His lost girl

He thought he lost you forever, he thought he’d never see you again never touch you or hold you again, you were his reason for living. until one night you left when things got too hard for you, you couldn’t handle your fathers beatings anymore your mom had already left and now it was just you and your dad, you would remind him of her your mother. you had beautiful brown eyes and black curly long hair, you attracted a lot of men’s attention with your beauty just like your mother did. So your dad would beat you for that and for reminding him of her, until one day you had enough and fought back and caught the belt that he was hitting you with, and shoved him against the shelf causing it to crash and fall over along with him falling over it, once you realized what you have done you took off running and left the little house and never looked back, you left the Mississippi and was gone for a short period of time you left when you were 17 and finally came back at 20. even though you weren’t gone long it felt like eternity to him, every night he would search for you and look for you scent in others but nothing worked no one could compare to you, he tried to drown his thoughts out but couldn’t his mind kept coming back to you and thinking of how good you would taste with your lips on his, your warm skin on his pale skin how his name would roll off of your tongue so softly. At night time you would always let him in and he would just lay in bed with you and kiss you till you were breathless, he would also taste you from your feminine parts which you loved and ached for him, he knows how badly that would drive you crazy and how much you needed him but he’d make you beg for it before he could finally give you what you wanted.

Now that your dad was dead and gone you could finally live your life the way you wanted it to be, you moved back to your so called childhood home, yes it held some bad memories but it also held good memories from your mom which you will always cherish.

It was now night fall and you were doing some house work and rearranging the whole house trying to make it different and feel different, finally you decided to take a break and drink some cold water to cool yourself down after that you started to change and go to bed. You walked upstairs and change into your night gown, once you were about to get in bed you heard a weird noise coming from downstairs once you head down and look and see that the front door is wide open you stare at it confused for a brief moment then walk over and close it and lock it, you sigh heavily and walk back upstairs and into your room. Suddenly you freeze in your tracks at what you’re looking at, this can’t be real this has to be a dream finally after all these years you’ve come face to face with him. “Hey baby, It’s been a long time.” You stare at him in disbelief “r-remmick.” He smiles at you “thought you could forget about me huh?.”you stay quiet, he chuckles “can’t say nothin now can ya?.” He walks closer to you “you have no idea how long I’ve been waitin to finally see ya again it felt like an eternity without ya without tasting ya again.”

He finally closes the space in between you two as your pulse quickens and your heartbeat goes fast, not to mention he’s really close to you to where you could feel his hot breath hitting your ear as he’s getting closer to your face, he lifts up your chin and whispers in your ear “I know you’ve been aching for me darlin, I know how badly you’ve been missin me hell I’ve missed you so fuckin much.” Your body starts to tremble a bit at his physical touch that you’ve been aching and missing for “p-please don’t.” He looks at you in awe and tilts his head slightly “don’t what baby? I just wanna show ya how much I missed ya, don’t act like you don’t want the same thang love.” “I d-don’t want t-this so please just stop.” You beg but it falls on deaf ears as he traces his fingers down your jawline to between your breasts as he starts to kiss them softly making you bite down on your lip as he kisses sucks on your sensitive buds. He then lifts up your gown and takes it off of you leaving you only in your cotton underwear, he picks you up as you wrap your legs around his waist as he lays you down on your bed and kisses you on your lips passionately, he starts to trace his kisses all the way down to your stomach as he then pulls your underwear down revealing your throbbing wet feminine parts.

“I knew ya missed me.” He says as he then dips his head down between your thighs and begins to thrust his tongue deep inside you, hitting your sensitive nerves making you cry out and moan.

He was eating you like he hasn’t ate in days every slow lick with the thrust of his tongue sent waves of pleasure throughout your body, your legs were shaking and your hips were twitching and you don’t think you could hold on for much longer with the way he was licking you. It’s been a minute since you had any sexual encounter the last time you did it was with your ex boyfriend and he didn’t lick you or fuck you the way Remmick does to you, it doesn’t even compare to the way Remmick does it. He starts to groan as he’s thrusting and licking his tongue inside of you enjoying every taste of you “I missed this taste so much, I can’t get enough of it baby.” He sticks his finger inside of you and starts to pump it causing you to have knots in your stomach, you feel yourself about to release “don’t hold back baby let go.” After he commanded it you followed and immediately came undone all over his tongue and mouth but he didn’t stop he still kept going and going until you felt so sore and weak, you were begging for him to stop. “Remmick please I can’t anymore it hurts.” You started to tear up from the overwhelming feeling you’d had between your legs and as he kept licking you and thrusting his tongue inside of you hitting your g spot making you climax again on his tongue the second time, finally he stops as he licks you clean. “M’sorry baby I couldn’t help myself I missed ya sweet taste.”

You try to calm yourself down from the high you were feeling, but the worse has yet to come he wasn’t even close to done with you and he never will be. You could see the print of him in his pants, seeing it made you so very wet you forgot how big he was. you watch him unzip his pants and free himself swiftly making you flinch, he chuckles at himself he loves how you still acted around him how shy and nervous you’re when it comes down to this, he takes of his pants fully and shirt leaving him with just his chain and tank top. Your legs start to tremble some more you aren’t ready for what’s about to happen but you really want it to happen, you missed him more then what you could say and his touch.

He walks over and climbs on top of you and begins to kiss you passionately, as you kiss him back you bite his lip gently. He aligns himself to your dripping wet entrance, he carefully slides himself in making you whimper as he starts to do deep thrusts inside of you, as you wrap your legs around his waist. Suddenly he pulls out of you and you moan as you suddenly feel the emptiness of him but he slams back inside of you and starts to thrust getting rougher and rougher with you now pounding into you as you moan and cry out his name”tell me yer mine darlin, tell me that ya won’t leave me again that ya only belong to me.” He whispers in your ear “I-I’m yours I’m all yours I won’t leave you I’ll never leave you baby I’m all yours.” You kept repeating it over and over again until you knew he was satisfied, he rests his face in the croak of your neck as he uses his free hand and presses down on your stomach, suddenly you start to feel another knot in your stomach and your walls start to tighten around remmicks member he groans as you’re squeezing him tight still pressing down on your stomach while still pounding into you he then whispers into your ear”you mine forever and I’ll always make sure of that now cum for me baby.” Right on time you immediately climaxed all over his member and not too far behind he also finishes inside of you burying himself deep within you, he stays inside you still for a moment feeling you throbbing and swollen he smirks then finally pulls out of you and lays next to you as you lay on his chest.

After tonight oh things are just beginning for you.

I have other ideas for my next one. no matter how much I try I still cannot get him out of my head ughhhh.

[lov4gor3]

this was 😩😩😩😩

Fit to Eat

(Fit to Eat - BiWitchEnergy - Sinners (2025) [Archive of Our Own])

Super long one-shot because I have no self-control! Enjoy <3

The scent of mortality rose from the dancing crowd, lingering at their stomping feet and rising in the air above as they raised their hands to the heavens. Bodies move together in their unique ways, yet follow the same rhythm.

You swayed amongst them, blending into their humanity with a long-practiced ease, dancing against a man with carob eyes whose hands grab your waist uncomfortably tight, desperate enough to amuse you. Hundreds of heartbeats bleeding together made your ears ring, heightened senses overwhelming you. The singer, Preacher Boy as he is called, plays the guitar with precision you have never seen before. 

You remember the music of your home nearly 1,400 years ago and the music your father brought from his own home in a distant land, but sometimes you find it in these places. Changed but still the same, just like your people, whose resilience has endured suffering unimaginable.

Your father would be proud, you think, to see such a thriving party and such joy from people who have had to struggle for any pleasure they get. Your mother, with her Irish heritage and wild nature, would also approve of this rendezvous; you can almost see them now, dancing together beyond the veil where not even the conquerors can separate them.

A sudden commotion from outside reaches your sensitive ears, the mortals don't stir. They dance on without a care, even as you pull away from the grasping man behind you and head for the door. The silly little guard, Cornbread, had examined you and gladly welcomed you in. Taking in your pretty skin, curls, and the wealth of your outfit. Now he stands with the owners and a few others at the front, guarding the door for this newcomer who waits outside, asking for permission to join the party. 

“What’s going on out there, Miss Annie?” You asked the gentle woman, with her calming demeanor reminding you of a sister long lost to time. She smiled, shaking her pretty head and telling you not to worry. A familiar scent catches your nose as she speaks, your eyes locked on a strong pair of legs standing right outside the door, the rest of the body blocked by the handsome twins who own the Joint.  

Tobacco and sandalwood wafting in the air made your head swim, and your mind traveled to times of laughter and whispered conversation. Safety flooded your veins like a shot filled with ecstasy. You try to shake off the warmth you feel, but it's not a good idea to let yourself relax in such a way. After all, you are a predator of the finest degree, like a lioness on the prow. 

“Maybe for just one night we can all be family.” Like smooth whisky, that voice washes over you, and in an instant, you rush forward until you stand just behind the taller men who block your path. You could move them, shove them so hard they'd fly out the door and hit the dirt with a resounding thud, but there is no need. You have learned when to be violent and when to be human. 

“Remmick,” you say his name like a prayer. For you, it is. How long had it been? A millennium had felt like eons, yet your thoughts of him were just as frequent as the last day you shared with him. You left him for a reason, yet he clawed his way back, like you were the oasis for this dying man. His eyes reveal the truth: He wasn't expecting to find you here. They are stunned, entirely black, and dilated. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down like he's choking on your presence.

“Ay, pretty girl! Ya’ know this white boy?” Stack asks as he lets you in front of him, giving Remmick a full view of you. You bite your lower lip to stop the smirk that grows on you as you watch the way Remmick's hands shake as if he were an addict being presented a drug just out of reach. His fists clenched at his side, the look in his eyes a blend of desperation, anger, and something else. Something more substantial and more dangerous than the others.

“Ya’, I know him. We go way back. Get on inside, y'all.” You motion for the others to return to the party. If Remmick is looking for a feast, he won't find one here, not with you around. These people weren’t for drinking from; they were your friends, and if you played your cards right, they could be family.

“Ain’t gonna leave you out here with 'em’,” Smoke warns, staying frozen and unmoving like a wall. You shake your head, curls bouncing along your shoulders. Remmick traces every strand of hair with his eyes, hypnotized by the light that catches along your locks. 

“Go on in. Imma just be a minute, besides, he ain't no Klan.” Remmick's face twists into a deep-set frown as if to express disgust at being viewed as a Klan member. Smoke obeys as you step down the stairs, going from above Remmick like a divinity to right below him as he stood a few inches over you. Still, you didn't feel fear; you walked right past him and like an obedient dog, he followed you to the edge of the forest, out of view of the others. 

Suddenly, his demeanor darkens, the redness in his eyes glowing like a demon crawling from hellfire. He didn't put his hands on you, didn't even dare to touch your gentle skin, fearing he'd be turned away in an instant.

“Been lookin’ for you, darlin’.” He growled, baring fangs that matched your own hidden behind your soft lips. “D’fhág tú mé.” You left me. Instinctively, you take his face between your hands, a habit you've found works well with human men. He buried his face within them without hesitation, digging his nose against your fingers and taking in the familiar scent of your skin; he had never let you touch him before, and he certainly never sought it out.

Your head shakes, slowly moving side to side as you force him to look down at you. “D'impigh tú orm.” You begged me. He bit his lip, knowing he couldn’t argue the truth. “You needed me gone, suga’.” Reminding him doesn’t make you feel any better, but it eases the guilt that his wet eyes bring you. Over 400 years were spent together. As humans, He was beyond subtle if he’d ever yearned for you as you did him.

“I’ve looked for you ever since,” his voice cracks. “Can't go on without you. Just can’t. We were friends once, weren't we?” The pain of your absence has taken a toll on him. He looks like a man coming home from war, battered and yearning. His skin is pale as ivory, his blue eyes darker than navy, and filled with loneliness. Raven hair clings to his forehead, the humid Mississippi air makes everything sticky, even your hands feel clammy against his skin. 

“Gotta place out here, just beyond the trees.” His ears perk up, waiting for you to continue. “Let me get my shawl, needa’ tell my friend bye.” His lips twist downward, his eyes flash with something akin to fear. Remmick’s hands find yours as they cling to his face, and he holds you in place. The touch is strange, unfamiliar, but so craved that you don't pull away. 

“I’ll be back, Suga.” With the promise of returning, he lets you peel away from him, but you feel the pinpricks of his red eyes as they follow you into the Juke Joint. Cornbread watches you emerge from the darkness, relieved to see you safe from your little conversation with the stranger. The guard nods as he holds the door open and tells you to go right in. When you are safely inside, the feel of Remmick's eyes is gone, and you yearn for them again.

“Gonna need my shawl now, Annie.” You tell the younger woman as she dances in and out of the kitchen. Her eyebrow raises in one graceful motion.

“You leavin’ with that man?” You nod in confirmation. “I don’ know. Ain’t nothin good ever come from goin’ off with no white man.” She draws a laugh right out of you; it shakes your shoulders. Annie hands you the shawl, and you lean in across the table. You can smell the copper scent of her blood as it pulses through her veins, but your hunger has been sated for the night after draining two Klan members in an old house on the way over.

“Tween’ you and me, that’s my white man.”

——————————————————————-

An agonizing silence fills the walk to your estate. It’s aged, a short-lived summer home for some old white bastard. It was practically rotting when you found it, and the man inside was rotting with it. He wailed when you killed him, his eyes twitching even as you left his body outside, prepped for the vultures.

You’d made the manor into a home despite the moss that clung to the white walls and the overgrown grass filled with snakes, waiting for their next meal. 

The inside is clean, decorated with pristine treasures from travels long ago. In the thousand years since Remmick last saw you, traveling was your primary goal, and now it felt as though you'd seen everything twice over. Antiques from Peru, a grandfather clock bought in Belgium, and Zulu masks that decorate the walls.

It looks brand new yet older than anything else out in the Delta. Not older then the two occupants though, damn near nothing was anymore except perhaps the ruins of civilizations that once believed they would last.

“Never did leave the 1780’s  did ya?” He asked as he took in the decor, a mix of every century you lived through, yet heavily decorated with gilded furniture and antiques that you took from your Chateau in France. A time when you lived as the ‘bastard daughter’ of whatever duke whose home you stumbled upon before turning him, many years after you and Remmick separated.  If you were going to be damned for eternity then you were going to do it in wealth and style. 

Though gorgeously decorated, the home still had a southern feel. Mississippi grew from the floorboards and leaked into its very aesthetic. Your legs folded under you as you dropped onto the velvet couch you had acquired from a man in Leeds about a century ago.

Remmick’s fingertips gently ran across your old whatnot, delicately tracing the antiques resting upon it. A jar, filled with a strange mixture of liquids and herbs, covered in red candle wax, caught his eye. He didn’t touch it; the ornate bottle seemed holy to him. “Looked for ya’ in New Orleans. Heard talk of you there. Nearly tore the damn place apart lookin’.” 

You watched him, his eyes glued to the spell jar; he knew where you got it, from the voodoo queen herself. You hoped he didn’t see right through it, you hoped he didn’t think it was for him. How silly you were to put a protection spell on a man long dead, but you had been inconsolable that night, screaming for a man you thought hated you, yet still desperate to see him again one day.

Remmick doesn’t realize it, he turns to you with a proud tilt to his lips, “was gonna kill 'em all tonight. Thought that singer boy could bring you back to me. Thought if you was dead, then maybe he could show me your pretty face again.”

A cruel scoff rose from the depths of your soul, “ You could have seen my face every morning and every night. I would have been with you now if you had let me, you accursed white devil. I was your friend, I knew you better than anyone!” The southern drawl is gone from your tongue, leaving your authentic accent, something old and new all the same.

“I hated you.” In a second, he voices what you have feared for a millennium. “I blamed you, and it wasn’t even your fault, Darlin’. I was miserable and young, but I’d never do it now. I’m old enough to tell you the truth of it all.”

His lips quiver, “I need you, Darlin’. Always have needed ya. You're all I want.” Remmick sinks to his knees at your feet, digging into the oriental rug you brought from Luoyang. If his head bowed any lower, he would look as if he were prostrating himself before his god. Thick hands, claws and all, find your hips, and he clings to them. 

“You will never forgive me, Remi. I was your creator, I made you a monster. I-,” you pause as a knot rises in your throat, “I killed you.”

Remmick's hair sways as he shakes his head, gripping you harder. “I begged ya’. You was hurting, and I used you. I wanted revenge just as you did. They killed my family, thought they killed ya’. I would have done it all over again. I should never have blamed you.” Tears well in your eyes for the first time in a hundred years, foolish though it is, they don’t dare fall. He sees it and whines, taking both of you by surprise. The sound like a wounded animal snaps you out of a trance. 

“Please, baby.” He was rocking back and forth, his knees shifting against the rug. “Chased you all these years, hoping to get ya’ back. I lied to you, told ya’ I hated you, but spent my days dreaming of you. I had over four hundred years to tell you I loved you, but I was a coward.” The shuffling of his body as he was practically grinding himself against your leg was distracting. 

“I’ve been in love with you since we swam in the Lough Neagh.”  You can’t breathe, your shoulders slack, and you throw your head into your hands. The two of you were human then; your family had just moved to the area after spending eighteen years in the deep forests.

A man like your father and a daughter like you stood out against the pale Irish, especially on your mother's side. You couldn’t have been older than nineteen. It was at least 1,400 years ago.

“I hate you. I loathe you. I’d dance on your grave,” you hissed as the tears poured over your eyes and onto your warm cheeks. “I thought you loved me. Before I turned you. Then you spent all those years, resenting me some days and being a friend the next.” He holds your wrists within his hands, trying to pry them from your face to see the tears that you hid. 

“I love you, Mo Shíorghrá.” My eternal love. Your wrists fell, allowing him to cup your cheeks within his hands, roughened from years of playing any instrument he could master. Slowly, almost like a fleeting touch, his rose colored tongue lapped at the tears that flowed from your eyes.

He continued this in between words, “before death found us, I was gonna marry you. Built the house and everything. We would’ve been parents, we’d have been buried together. I was just waitin’ to confess and ask for your hand.”

“You hated me. We fought every day. I tried to drown you in the Lough Neagh.” Your voice is strained.

“You looked so beautiful holding me underwater.” 

“I would have married you. We could have died together, saved from this eternal torment.” You whisper, a confession of your own that you'd waited a thousand years to say.

“Marry me now, then.”

Remmick’s blackened eyes search your face when you look up at him. Nodding your head to confirm to yourself that he is real and this is not a dream. You splay your hand across his chest, not timidly but calculatedly, pushing him back until he’s off his knees and lying against the ornate rug, surrounding him with vibrant shades of red and purple.

You slide off the couch and straddle him, sitting atop his lap. Remmick’s eyes are wide like a barn owl's, but redness blooms on his cheeks, mirroring the fire you feel spreading across your skin. His claws dig into your dress, ripping the red silk, and you chide him for it.

“Now, sweetheart, I loved this dress. Ya’ gonna be rough with your blushin’ bride?” He groans, thrusting his hips upward, effortlessly pushing your body higher.

Your southern accent leaves his chest heaving; you grin like a Cheshire Cat, realizing you've got him entrapped. Whispers leave him, strained and desperate, begging and cursing the years you spent fighting when you could have been doing this.

“So needy, pretty boy. How many girls ya’ been with? How many ya’ wish was me?” You purr, your clawed hands slowly trace up to his throat as he whimpers your name. When the two of you were humans, he had been engaged but narrowly dodged it, something you used to taunt him about. As far as you knew, he was innocent then.

You taste the salt of your sweat as it drips onto the top of your lip, you lick it away while making direct eye contact with the disheveled man who rolls his hips against you in the most pathetic display you've ever seen. The Irishman groans at the sight of your tongue darting along your plump lips.

“Too many, only when they looked like ya’. Ain’t never loved em’. Called ya’ name multiple times like a damn dog.” He gasps, your hands tighten on his neck, and he bucks his hips again, bouncing you on his lap.

Each buck has you falling back onto him, dragging your heat against his pelvis in a tantalizing way. You bite back a moan as he continues to ignite a deep ache within you. You're trembling above him, rutting against him with strangled cries.

“N’you? Can only imagine everyone who got to bed ya’. Always was stunning, all the people wanted a night with ya’ in their bed.” Hissing like a jealous viper, he grips your hips to grind you down against him. The rough rub of his jeans against your cotton under clothes is enough to make your eyes roll back, but you close them, raking your nails against his chest and shredding through his white shirt. His bulge presses into your clit, stimulating it just enough to make your limbs shake.

“Too many,” You sigh, using his words against him. It isn’t good enough for Remmick. He thrusts the tent of his pants against your core, and his nails sink into your hips.

He caresses the spots where his nails have left red indents on your hips, and his gentle demeanor surprises you until he's pulling you forward to nip at your neck. His fangs brush against you, considering breaking your skin. He’s challenging you, even after all this time, he still enjoys your battles. 

“Was a man out in,” you struggle to stop the sounds that rip from your throat as he continues grinding against you, “Out in Oregon. Coulda been your brother with the way he looked. I rode him till the sun came up.” Remmick growls, in a steady motion that takes you by surprise, he rises to his feet with your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. You feel the outline of him pressed into you, begging for entrance.

“Bedrooms upstairs, suga’. To the right.” Nails tracing his neck, you whisper against his ear as he nearly flies up the stairs. You lean towards him, licking a stripe from his necklace to his jaw. He tastes of salt, copper, and something so sweet you can’t name it.

“Wanna know something else, love? I called ya’ name all night.” For your taunting, you're thrown onto the bed you carefully made before you left for the Juke Joint. The plush bead spread, dark as mulberry wine, cradles your back as you land against it. You're left with your thighs clenched together, desperate for stimulation as Remmick stands over you.

“Gonna do that for me tonight? I’m gonna make your pretty throat raw.” He’s clawing at the dip of your dress, right below your neck.  In one swift motion, he rips the dress straight down the middle.  He raises your leg, taking your ankle into his hand as he tenderly kisses the sensitive skin. Your leg quakes in his hand before he drops it. 

With one sharpened claw, he splits your two-piece undergarments until he can see every inch of you. Gently, he takes the cut clothing and peels it away from your body, tossing the rags to the floor. His shredded shirt follows.

  For the first time, you are completely naked before him. Not to say that he hadn't seen you in all the years you were together, lustful glimpses as the two of you bathed in the rivers and days spent sharing a bedroom waiting for the sun to set had given him prior knowledge of your nude form in rare flashes.

 Nothing could compare to this, with you lying below him, his eyes traced every stretch mark and every freckle in sight. He licked those too, bending over the bed and tracing your details with the tip of his tongue. From the marks along your thighs, he slowly moved lower, closer to where your body called for him. You grasp his hair, pulling his face away from your aching center.

“No! Need you right now, Remi!” Your voice, a strained whine as you pleaded for him to quit all the foreplay and just fuck you. His gleaming red eyes regard you with such softness that you throw your head back to hide your face from his loving gaze, scared he would see the desire in your eyes.

“Bout’ a thousand years I've waited for this.” Remmick's nose nudges your swollen clit, he buries his face into you, inhaling your heady scent. Lifting to watch your face, he continues, “damn near 500,000 days I've spent aching for ya’. Imma’ take my time tonight, darlin’.” He resumes his slow-paced lapping at your dripping cunt. With gentle fingers, he parts your flesh, giving him more access to you—his tongue, initially flat against your entrance, darts inside of you like a bullet. 

Useless words and lustful moans fall from your bloody lips, raw from attempting to bite back whimpers. Remmick has starved, yearned, and thirsted for this since he first laid eyes on you. It was worth every agonizing second.

 “Fuckin’ ambrosia.” He whimpers, “fruit of the gods.” Remmick’s tongue delves in and out of you as though he can’t get enough of your flavor. His fingers, thick yet long, trace your entrance as he pulls his tongue away to focus on your most pleasurable spot, engorged from the teasing. Your wrist finds your mouth when he pushes two fingers inside. Blood seeps from your lips, having bitten through your skin.

 Remmick whines like a bitch in heat. His hips rutting against the comforter as he continues savoring you on his tongue while opening you with his fingers as preparation. You hold your wrist out and he lifts his head, watching curiously as the blood drops down to your swollen cunt. His big red eyes widen at your offering.

“That’s my beloved, feeding me right from her veins,” He groans through swollen lips. Remmick rolls his hips against your bare calf, chasing the bliss that he feels with every move. His tongue swirls around your clit and his lips wrap around it as he sucks gently. His fingers fly in and out of you, deliberately curling into a spot deep inside you that has your back arching off the bed. 

You're clenching around him as you match his pace. Angelic moans fly from your lips, pleasure building in your stomach until the coil snaps and your legs spasm around Remmick's head. Your panting is soft, pleasurable tremors rake through your body.

The Irish man does not let up, he continues sucking and lapping up everything your body gives him, his clawed hands trail up your body until he's grasping at your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers. It’s borderline painful, you clench around nothing as he sucks at your clit. 

The continued ministrations leave you spasming, your fingers twitch and clench into Remmick's hair. Your hips grind against his nose, stars in your eyes, and then your body drops like a puppet cut from its string. Drool rolls down your swollen lips, and for a moment, you worry you have hit your head because the world is slipping in slow motion.

“Pretty girl, my pretty bride.” Remmick stroked your cheeks, wiping the drool from the corner of your lips and licking it off his fingers. The flavor of your spit and spend mix together on his tongue, and he whines, loud and needy. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, suga’. You gonna let me?” He raises until your chest is pressed flat against his, and your thighs instinctively wrap around his toned waist. Your hands lazily trace the line of his abdomen down to the thin patch of hair that leads to his arousal. Your palm cups that spot you feel yearning against you, but Remmick grabs your cheeks, pushing your lips together as he pulls your face to meet his.

“Fucked ya’ dumb already? Asked you a question, darlin’.” He says as you struggle to speak or meet his gaze. You are still drooling, mind empty of everything but him. You bobbed your head up and down, hoping to answer his question while your mind reeled from the pleasure in your veins. Tenderly, Remmick’s lips meet yours.

 It was not your first kiss; that was the day you turned him, but it's just as significant. You wrap your arms around his head, pulling him back to you when you part. This time, your lips move together, slowly pushing against each other.

Your tongue runs along his lips, he opens his mouth eagerly, and you wrap your tongue around his. You pull back when your lungs burn, Remmick rests his forehead against yours, and you stare into each other's eyes for a few loving minutes. “ I s liomsa thú agus is leatsa mise.” You are mine, and I am yours.

With trembling hands, Remmick takes hold of his weeping cock and positions it at your ready entrance. Gently, he inches himself into you until he can’t go any further. You swallow him within your warmth; he pulses with blood from his latest victim, and you can feel him twitch within you. Your legs, still wrapped around him, push him into you, begging for him to move, but he remains still. His eyes, rubies of light, watch you as if he's a man obsessed, taking in the curve of your nose and the bow of your lips.

 “I loved ya’ in Ireland.” He starts, ignoring your confused look. “I’ve followed traces of ya’ from the deserts to freezing shores. And in every place, every damned second, I’ve been entirely in love with ya’.” He pulls back slowly, letting you feel every inch of him that leaves you before he snaps back in, refilling the emptiness and drawing out a breathy moan from you.

“When the sun goes down, we gonna go back to that joint and kill every last one of 'em.” Your lips on his neck make him moan against your breast as you whisper those words in his ears. 

“We gonna have the family ya’ve always wanted.” You nip at his earlobe, pale as the moon. He rocks in and out of you with whimpers and whines that make you throb around him, feeling every movement and hearing every sigh. 

“Maybe if ya’ fuck me hard enough, you’ll fill me with your babe,” the words sound like a prayer when purred against his lips. Remmick stops moving. He looks down at you for a minute; you worry that you've said the wrong thing until animalistic lust sets into his eyes. Then he's fucking into you, reckless and frantic with desire. The old bed creaks with each thrust. He ravishes you, like a man on his wedding night, desperate and hungry. 

The bed frame groans as it bangs against the withered walls. Your nails scratch along his back, leaving marks that will heal in a day. He grunts, deep and long, as your nails draw blood from him. Your arms shake around his neck, chasing every thrust and craving it. You whisper words of encouragement, urging him to go faster and harder. Your sucking at the flesh of his neck, panting against him as he continuously hits the spot inside of you that leaves you whining against his skin.

Remmick grips your waist hard enough to bruise as he raises you from beneath him, slipping out of you for a minute before lying onto his back and placing you on top of him.

“Show me how you rode my look-alike.” He purred, as he took hold of his cock making it easier for you to sink onto him. You do so, biting your lower lip as he fills you even further than before. You felt drunk, entirely at his mercy, but you reminded yourself that letting him win would be a shame, so you gathered your wits even as you rocked your hips back and forth, rising up and down like you were riding a wild horse.

“He ain’t like you. He made me howl like a bitch,” you cooed as your man growls in response. Below you, Remmick looks completely unwraveled. His hips jolt up, quicker and rougher, as if he's challenging your smug statement. The golden chain on his neck catches your attention as your head lands against him. He whimpers when you pull him closer to you with a yank of the necklace. 

Your rolling hips speed up, arching your back as that special spot inside of you is continuously probed. Remmick holds your waist, helping you rise and fall onto him, his eyes are filled with tears, and his lips spout slurred praises. “This the chain I gave ya’? One I bought you before you begged me tuh’ leave?” He nodded frantically.

“Never take it off.” He groans as you halt your movement. 

“Not even when ya’ fucking them other girls?”

“Nah. Gets me hard, thinkin’ bout’ you.” Remmick’s hand grasps your neck, borderline choking you, but it does not stop your deep inhales. His words send goosebumps across your skin, before you know it, you are shouting praises as your hips grind against him.

Your legs crumble, your climax hitting you for the third time that day. Searing ecstasy washes over you, forcing you to scream Remmick's name as you tighten around him. You slump, your forehead hidden in his shoulder. With a sudden burst of energy, Remmick snaps his hips into you for three more thrusts before his body spasms. You feel heat like never before as he releases inside of you. You lie against him, your thighs weak around his hip bones as you both relax into the bed. He doesn't pull out of you, and secretly, you hope to stay like this until the night returns. 

“Wanna’ do it all again.” You whisper in his ear, fangs dangerously close to piercing it.