passionxwrites

[passionxwrites]

I’m not one to get into internet discourse but some of yall are being a little tone deaf to some of the people who are just trying to share their hobby of writing

[passionxwrites]

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.

[passionxwrites]

DEVIL'S DEN

Elijah "Smoke" Moore / Elias "Stack" Moore / Elizabeth "Beth" Everly (reader)

THERE WILL BE NO INCEST IN THIS FIC

*Remember you are in charge of your own consumption. 18+ up audiences only; minors please don’t interact!* THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION 

*Please do not plagiarize, repost, or steal my work. This doesn’t count for re-blogs!*

THE SCENERY…

*SET IN THE 50s*

Stack is a vampire

Smoke is alive and human

Annie and Mary(vampire) are bartenders at the club

Annie and Smoke are close friends with a baby rather than lovers

Reader’s aesthetic

THE ‘RED ROOM’ WILL NOT BE REVEALED RIGHT AWAY

SUMMARY: You’re working for the twins at a kink club in the 50s. Being their employee, you would never cross that line…right?

PAIRINGS: Elijah “Smoke” x Elias “Stack” x Beth (black, fem, reader)

WARNINGS: language; drug use; drinking; smoking; sexual tension; smut; use of “N” word

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Michael, Michael, Michael! I’ve been in love with Sinners since I saw it, and MBJ was my original celebrity crush, so I have to write for him! It’s honestly been too long, in my opinion. Let me know what you guys think! I'm so excited to finally share it with y'all. This is my first time writing for someone who isn't Aaron so please be gentle with me lol.

“Welcome to the Devil’s Den, where your worst dreams come true. How can I help you today?”, you smile at the patron before you as your corset digs into your back. 

“C’mon Beth, don’t act like you don’t recognize me now!” The stranger said.  

You recognized the voice, but, “Aww shit! I know that ain’t Cornbread! What you doing up in here?” You ask the jovial man. 

Cornbread smiles at you, a look of disbelief on his face, “Damn Beth, you sure grew up fine!” he says as he takes off his hat with a slight bow of his head. You smile, shaking your head at your friend. 

“Cornbread! Nigga you better stop making eyes at Beth! Get on back there and handle ya wife, she already had three men.” You watch as your boss Elias Moore or “Stack” as they call him usher Cornbread behind the velvet curtain. He returned shortly after with a shake of his head.

“C’mon now Stack, Cornbread ain’t mean nothing by it. It’s just talk you know how much he loves Esther,” you say with a teasing tilt in your voice. 

“Yeah, well whatever make sure these niggas pay, we ain’t put yo pretty ass in front for nothing,”Stack says with a smirk before he too disappears behind the velvet curtain. You sigh dreamily when you’re sure Stack’s out of earshot. Goddamn that man was finer than baby hair. It only seemed like yesterday when he and his brother changed your life.

FLASHBACK

“I told Jackson the police ain’t stopping by anymore -- wait,” Stack stops abruptly in the entrance to the alleyway behind their acquaintance’s  club. 

“What?” Smoke asks, his sense now on high alert. He takes a step back pulling out his gun, head on a swivel looking for a potential threat.

“This ain’t normandy beach nigga, look!” Stack gestured to a dumpster about ten feet away and he could clearly see a young girl slumped over next to the dumpster. She was either dead, high or sleeping; normally he would just walk right by. But, the white dress and sandals she had on indicated that she was far too innocent to be in a back alley behind a drug dealer’s club.

“Excuse me for always being the prepared one, somebody’s gotta watch your back,” Smoke said, tucking his gun back into his waistband. The twins approach your unconscious figure, squatting down to get a better look at you. 

“Damn, they beat the shit out of her,” Smoke says, removing his hat. He looked at you, his features softening. You were practically covered in bruises, they littered your face, arms, and legs. 

“At least she’s still breathin’,” Stack said, as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. Your high cheekbones and delicate features stun the two men as they take in the battered beauty before them. 

“C’mon we gotta move her,” Smoke said, reaching under you to pick you up bridal style. Normally, it was Stack who would do something irrational. There was just something about you, Smoke couldn’t risk you being out in the elements any longer. And, who knows if someone was coming back to finish the job. 

“You sure about this, brother?” Stack asked, but Smoke was already headed toward his truck.

“C’mon nigga get the door!” Smoke shouted over his shoulder. Stack mumbled a curse before jogging up to meet his brother with the battered beauty in his arms. 

...

“Ok so we got her! Now what?” Stack asked his brother, as he flew down the highway to their home. 

“We’re just going to get her cleaned up and sent on her way, that's all,” Smoke said to his brother. Little did he know how wrong he’d be. 

END OF FLASHBACK

“Why you gotta be so mean to Cornbread? He was only messin’”, you say, waiting on Stack’s face to reappear from behind the curtain. 

When it does, he says, “Yeah, Cornbread is a bonafide freak darlin’. You keep letting him sweet talk you, he gon’ try and get in them pink silk panties you got on,” Stack said, placing his signature toothpick in his mouth. You watched as his lips closed around the toothpick, a small smile adorning your face. 

“What I tell you about looking through my delicates?” You say, sauntering toward a smirking Stack. Stack glanced away, a bashful look on his face.

“Elias… have you been going though my things?” you ask a seductive smirk on your face as you bat your eyelashes up at the man in red. 

“Hard to miss em’ when you’re always walking around, that plump backside hanging out the back. Everywhere I look I can see your ‘things’,” Stack begins to snicker as you playfully slap his shoulder. 

“Hush, up! I’m a decent lady!” You say psushing your shoulder’s back in a mock posh stance. 

Stack rolls his eyes as he tilts his head back with a full body laugh, his fangs glinting in the low light. “Yeah, right. ‘Right there stack! Ouu fuck yes keep eating me just like that!’ That sound like something a ‘decent lady’ says?” Stack asks, using finger quotes to make emphasis. 

You we’re stunned into silence, mouth agape as the man infront of you cackled at your expense. You open your mouth to reply but a booming voice cuts you off. 

“Stack! Nigga I’m about to put Beth ass in the ‘Red Room’! Everytime I look for you, here you are, nose spread wide open sniffing behind her!” Smoke scolded. Stack snuck a peek at you, your fingers pressed against your lips to hide your laughter.

He rolled his eyes playfully, peeking over your head to eye his twin. “Didn’t I walk up here earlier and you had your hand up the back of Beth’s dress?”

An un-lady-like snort left you at Stack’s question. You peeked a glance at Smoke over your shoulder to see him glaring at his brother. When he looks down at you, his gaze softens and he shoots you a wink, “Hey, peaches.”

You soften immediately at the nickname, “Hey, papa,” you say, turning to face him fully. You take a step toward him, reaching forward to straighten his tie. 

“Stack was just gettin’ Cornbread outta my hair baby. Want me to send him back to work?” You ask playfully. 

“How ‘bout both of y’all get to fuckin’ work and stop wasting our money,” Smoke placed a kiss on your forehead before moving deeper into the club. As you watch his figure retreat you feel a pair of lips behind your earlobe. 

“C’mon baby, Smoke’s already mad at us! Go work so we can play later,” you whine as Stack teases your sweet spot. 

“Why play later, when I got you hot, wet and ready right now,” Stack mumbled against your neck. His fangs playing against your pulse point. You hum out a laugh as Stack wraps his arms around your front, hands splaying across your lower belly. 

“Elias, get now before your brother takes away our play time,” You slink out of his hold, immediately missing his warmth. You take your place behind the hostess’ podium shooting stack a wink and a fingerwave and he adjusts his obvious hard-on. 

Stack straightens his cap before turning and heading back, “Oh, Peaches! I hope you’re ready for the begging I have in store for you,” He snickers as he walks away your protests falling on deaf ears. 

“Annie, baby I’d kill for one of your catfish sandwiches right na!” you exclaim after your stent in the ‘Red Room’.

“Girl after the show you put on in there, you need it! All the soldiers were salutin’ you,” Annie jokes as she dries an empty pitcher.

“How’s Rain doin’?” you ask, sliding into an empty barstool. 

A soft smile blooms on Annie’s face at the mention of her and Smoke’s baby girl. “She’s wonderful, ganna make her Daddy go gray.”

You laugh at Annie’s comment, “I’m surprised that man won’t born with gray hair. But, my sister has some dresses her daughter grew out of. I can bring ‘em to you tomorrow night?” you suggest. 

“You too sweet to me, thank you!” Annie says, pulling you into a hug across the bartop.

“We family, you know that,” you say, looking warmly into Annie’s eyes. Annie glanced toward the Red Room and back to you.

“How was it in there tonight?” Annie asks, nodding in the direction of the room. 

You shrug, a look of indifference on your face. “It was aight, folks really came for Pearline,” you say, reaching over the counter to steal a cherry.

Annie lets out a hum of approval, “You know she bends in a way that just ain’t natural. She pop her hip?” (twerking)

You nod enthusiastically, “Twice, Annie! I gotta learn that!” You joke, jumping off the barstool. Trying to copy Pearline, you put an arch in your back and shake your rump. You and Annie both giggle like schoolgirls at your attempt to do the dance.

“Hey! What’s allat movement back there?!” Stack exclaims, coming around the corner. You stop dancing immediately, your cheeks warm with embarrassment of getting caught. Annie snickers as she ducks behind the bar. 

“Do it again,” Stack commands, leaning against the doorframe. 

You look around nervously, “Boy, I’m not making a fool of myself,” you finish with a giggle. Stack smirks, his golds glinting in the light.

“I just wanna see that ass shake again, you’ll show me won’t you baby?” Stack asks advancing on you, like a predator stalking his prey. In between the two of them you were surprised you didn’t have whiplash. 

“Not now, later. You still got time before you go to ground?,”You ask starring up at him. Stack sighs softly before rolling up his sleeve to check his watch. 

“Still got a few hours left, come on baby. Smoke’s waiting,” Stack said, offering his arm for you to take. Once you do, he leads you both out. You shoot a wink to Annie over your shoulder, and she just shakes her head, smiling at her friend.

Okay, I know it's sort of a cliff hanger but I wanted to see how y'all liked it first. So will there be more? Let me know in the comments!

Special shoutout to my girls @nayaesworld @theereinawrites @keehendrixx for being the best guinea pigs!

Until next time

TEE <3

TAGLIST

@transparentphantomface @prettygirl2800 @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @rose-bliss @kindofaintrovert @simplyzeeka @bigjuiciisushii @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @queenofklonnie22 @d1gitalb4rbie @kiya107 @shamansha @jackierose902109 @bigjh @coldeforprez @httpsangelsstuff @cerya @thedondada05 @dutifullythoughtfulenthusiast @timae444 @heyyimmisunderstood @uso-penitentiary @vanssity @kinginwithbreezy-blog @fadingbelieverexpert @bbyxgall @h-0-n-3-yd-3-w @fromjaszwithlove @sunflowerchild-bloomed @rolemodelshit @baddestbarbb @prettyfacedee222 @mirathebookworm @333symone @amethyst09 @thebumblebeesworld @moebuttta @bluejay2503 @uzumaki-rebellion @hermyowney @iluvanime301 @disc0fairy @lovemekaycee @zillasvilla @batserebus @x-bakudeku-x @remmickcherie @prettyshon10 @keyaho @nubiagurllll

[passionxwrites]

And if I tell you y’all that I’m living through Cymone then what?

[passionxwrites]

Double trouble

Pairing-ModernAU-Smoke&Stack x Black reader

Summary-You are the twins sugar baby

A/N-Ive never wrote anything like this before so bare with me hun

One twin? Maybe. You’ve dealt with bold men before — men who liked pretty things on their arms, who flashed cash and promises like candy. Stack seemed like another one of those: flashy, cocky, dipped in gold and danger. All mouth, all muscle, all that swagger that made girls stupid.

But two?

Two was asking for trouble. The kind that you don’t just flirt with. The kind that drags you in by the throat and makes you say thank you.

Now you’re sitting pretty in the back of a black Escalade with tinted windows and heated leather seats. Stack’s hand is on your thigh, thumb tracing circles higher than it should while he scrolls through his phone. Smoke’s behind the wheel — silent, always — but you can feel his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, watching. Measuring.

You shift just slightly, tug at the hem of your silk skirt.

And Stack smirks like he knows exactly what you’re doing. Like he’s already planning to ruin it later.

Trouble? Yeah. You’re drowning in it.

But trouble comes with a black card, a diamond tennis bracelet, and your name engraved on the inside of a Louis Vuitton bag.

⸻

Stack spoils you loud.

He’s the type to drag you through the most expensive store in the city and dare the clerk to ask about a limit. Neon signs, loud music, top-floor penthouse parties — he wants you to be seen. Wants people to know who you belong to. “Pick what you want, baby. Matter of fact, pick two. I like you in options.”

He drives too fast. Tips too much. Kisses you like he’s claiming you with every bite.

And when he’s not around? Smoke is.

⸻

Smoke spoils you quiet.

He sends the money before you can ask. The rent’s paid. Your tuition? Covered. Your account balance rises in silence, like a tide — consistent, steady, impossible to ignore. One morning you woke up to a car in your driveway. Not flashy — matte, black, sleek. Clean. Practical. With a note tucked into the cupholder:

“No excuses now. Be on time.”

You remembered telling Smoke how you're always late for the bus

He doesn’t text much. Just enough.

Be home by ten.

Wear the black dress.

Leave the door unlocked.

And you follow every instruction.

Every time.

⸻

You float between them, somewhere in that sweet spot between indulgence and obsession. Draped in designer. Laced in perfumes you can’t pronounce. Lipstick shades picked out by Stack, lingerie sets folded neatly by Smoke.

Marked by both.

Your lips are bruised from one. Your thighs tremble from the other. You wake up with one name in your mouth and fall asleep with the other still on your skin.

They don’t fight. They don’t ask.

Because they both know the answer.

Everyone in the city whispers when you walk into a room. From the street girls to the CEOs — they see the watch on your wrist and the curve of that smirk you always wear, and they know.

Whose girl is she?

The answer’s simple.

Theirs.

⸻

Your phone buzzes at 11:01PM.

Two notifications.

Transfer received: $10,000 — “For being pretty.”

Transfer received: $10,000 — “Because you listened.”

You smile, curl deeper into the plush hotel bedding, and take another sip of wine that cost more than your rent used to.

Then you press Add to savings.

You were never the good girl. Never the quiet one. But somehow, being a little bad never paid so good.

And with both Moore twins wrapped around your finger?

You’re just getting started.

[passionxwrites]

Provider - Chapter 1

Pairing: Xavier Savage and Giselle Sebastian (FCs are Aaron Pierre & Lori Harvey)

Warnings: Minors DNI. No smut in this chapter but future chapters will be smut and kink filled. If that's not your jam, tap out now.

Summary: He's going to make her an offer she cant refuse.

Word Count: 2.6k.

If you want to hear the song that inspired the title and eventually a bit of the story, it is listed below. I encourage you to listen to the lyrics...

People believed that money was the root of all evil. But they were wrong. It was love of money… LOVE of money was the true root of all evil. One of the most important lessons he’d learned in life was that money could truly buy anything. It had bought him a life far beyond his wildest dreams. He’d taken something his father had built and turned it into an empire. And soon, he’d add her to his collection of beautiful things. He let his eyes rove over that beautiful body, taking notice of the fact that he wasn’t the only one appreciating her beauty. From his personal booth tucked in the shadows he watched her. The way her soft hair tumbled down her back. The way her skin seemed to shimmer and glow beneath the purple and amber lights that lit the club. She was perfect. And soon she’d be all his. 

Xavier Savage was one of the richest men in New York City and a man like him was used to getting what he wanted. What he wanted most in this moment was Giselle Sebastian. She was the daughter of a man who didn’t deserve her, who narrowed her worth down to who she could marry, who she could leverage into more wealth for her father. Xavier had heard the rumors, the murmurings that were going around in the circles he was privy to have access to. Giselle’s father, Michael Sebastian had arranged for a marriage between his daughter and the son of some hedge fund millionaire. The fat fuck could never get a woman like Giselle on his own and depended on his daddy to do it for him. Apparently, little Miss Sebastian had refused to tether herself to a man who hadn’t seen his own dick in more than a decade and as a result, her father took everything away from her. The fancy Upper West Side apartment, the Bentley, the black card... everything. For a woman like her, a woman of wealth and worth, to be working in a place like this… Xavier knew she was desperate. Here was Specter, a club he owned that catered to a very particular clientele. The kind of clientele that paid a lot of money to keep their dirty little kinks away from the public eye.

Bourbon burned a wicked path down his throat as he sat patiently, watching her watching him. She’d been avoiding his table since the start of her shift less than an hour ago and this little game was running his patience thin. Giselle knew who he was. Everyone knew Xavier Savage. He wasn’t aware of what made her so skittish around him though. In addition to being one of the city’s wealthiest businessmen, he was also one of it’s most eligible bachelors. Women were falling all over themselves to get next to him and nothing turned him off more. But her… she wasn’t like the others. Even before her father had practically disowned her, she’d been elusive. But that would all end soon. He planned on making her an offer she quite literally couldn’t refuse. Of course, he paid all his staff here well, from the cocktail waitresses to the bouncers. But Giselle had debts she couldn’t cover on her own. She’d been smart, downsizing her apartment immediately. But there was one thing she loved more than anything. And that one thing was a Thoroughbred horse named Count. Count was the descendant of her grandfather’s favorite, most prized horse and she’d loved him from the moment he’d given him to her. Emmanuelle Sebastian, Giselle’s grandfather, had died just under a year ago, and everything had been split between his two sons. But he’d made sure to make sure Count’s ownership papers had only Giselle’s name on them. Since her father had cut her off, she’d been saving every penny to pay for Count’s stable fees. Xavier knew that horseback riding was a very expensive hobby. Count’s stable fees were a drop in the bucket for him. But for the newly broke Giselle, scraping the money together had been the bane of her existence for the last two months.

When Xavier had run a background check on her, standard on all new employees, he’d been shocked to find that there wasn’t more for him to latch on to. That horse was her only vice, if you will. Before her father had cut her off, her days consisted of pilates, coffee dates, expensive galas, and of course, Count. She was like every other rich girl in the city, flitting through life on Daddy’s dime. He would give her credit where credit was due though. Giselle was just as smart as she was pretty. He’d been impressed to see that she held a dual degree from Columbia University, majoring in African American studies and creative writing. Graduated at the top of her class. Quite impressive for someone who could have sat back and used her beauty to get what she wanted out of life. Not only would she look absolutely exquisite by his side, she’d have the brains to make sure he didn’t get bored with her.

“Boss man wants to see you.”

Giselle’s head snapped up, her eyes widening imperceptibly as she slid the freshly made cocktails on to her tray. “What?”

The bartender, Brett, smirked as he pointed behind her.

“He likes to meet all the new folks. Don’t panic. Bring him this.”

Brett swapped out her tray with a chilled glass filled with amber liquid and sent her on her way. What choice did she have? Either bring the man his drink or never show her face in Specter again. It wasn’t like she’d be able to find another job that paid her as well as this one did and still made sure she had time to herself. Giselle took a deep breath as she turned and walked towards Xavier’s table. He was seated partially in the dark, casting shadows across his face and broad shoulders. But she knew that face of his very well. He’d been on the cover of Forbes recently and Giselle had read that article more times than she could count. His feline like eyes held her captive even through a photograph, making her wonder what was behind those tumultuous green eyes of his. He was caramel colored like her and wore his facial hair in a nice neat goatee, drawing attention to his full lips. He was more than just classically handsome. He appealed to the side of her that craved such an utterly masculine men.  Men like him were dangerous. Not just rich but powerful. Men like him knew they could get whatever they wanted with just a snap of their fingers. Even though she couldn’t see those mesmerizing eyes of his, she could feel the heat of them on her.

“Here’s your bourbon.”

His fingers purposely brushed hers as he took the crystal glass from her hand.

“Thank you… Sit with me for a moment. Please.”

Giselle took a deep breath, taking a quick glance around before sliding into the booth, making sure to keep her distance from him. 

“I’m not going to bite you, Ms. Sebastian. What are you afraid of?”

“Am I in some kind of trouble?”

“Not at all…”

She nibbled her bottom lip, her eyes on her hands. 

“Look at me.”

Of their own volition, her dark eyes met his and she didn’t miss the flicker of pleasure in those jade depths. Xavier was pleased that she obeyed him. Her eyes dropped to his hands as he lifted the heavy glass tumbler to his lips, appreciating just how big they were. He had a boxer’s knuckles and that surprised Giselle. She wouldn’t have expected a man like him to be a fighter.

“Can I ask you a question, Ms. Sebastian…?”

“Sure…”

“What’s the most precious thing you own?”

“Wha- why?”

“Humor me.”

Giselle narrowed her eyes at him, wondering why a man like him would ask an employee that kind of question. It wasn’t like he really gave a shit about any of them. This fishing expedition felt more like a way for him to gather some dirt on her than a genuine question. 

“Nothing. I don’t actually own too much.”

“Hmmm.”

“What?”

“I would have thought you’d say Count considering you spent half your monthly income on him last month.”

Giselle felt her cheeks flush, anger and embarrassment rising inside of her. How the fuck did he know what she was spending her money on?!

“I don’t think that’s really any of your business, Mr. Savage.”

“Back to Mr. Savage, huh? Hmmm… You’re right. It’s not my business, but I do have a proposition for you. An arrangement if you will.”

“I’m not interested in anything you have to offer,” she began to push herself up from the table.

“I think you’ll want to listen to my offer before you turn me down, Giselle.”

His voice was calm and deceptively even. She looked over at him and found those eyes unerringly focused on her. She couldn’t hold his gaze, looking off to the side.

“What kind of offer?”

“Very simple. I want you. I’m willing to make your life easier in exchange.”

“I’m not a whore,” she hissed, her eyes quickly glancing around to see if anyone had heard her in her anger.

“I wouldn’t dare ask a woman of your caliber to whore herself, Giselle. Not a good girl like you.”

Her heart pounded in her chest and she could feel the flush in her cheeks. 

“You would accompany me to events. Be seen on my arm around town.”

“You’re one of the most eligible bachelors in town. I’m sure you don’t have a hard time getting a date.”

“I don’t want a date, Giselle. I want you.”

She sat back in the booth, crossing her arms across her breasts. Giselle didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to her pushed up chest nor the flash of heat in those cold jade depths.

“What do I get out of this?”

“A chance to continue the life your father stole from you.”

The pang of hurt in her chest was unexpected. She’d told herself that it didn’t matter, but the way her father had treated her broke her heart and shook her faith in men. It wasn’t just the lifestyle he took from her. It was the idea that he loved her as his child, his only child, and not just for what opportunities she could secure for him. But he didn’t. She was just a pawn in his twisted little game and she realized that now more than ever.

“What do I have to do?”

“Be mine.”

The next morning

The soft but insistent knocking at her front door woke her from a dreamless sleep. Giselle tugged her robe on as she made her way to the front door, still half asleep. When she peaked out the peephole, she was shocked to see the man himself, Xavier Savage. She ran a hand through her hair, wishing she’d been in the state of mind last night to wrap it. Fuck… Before she could think about it too much, she unlocked the door and pulled it open, her mouth going dry at the sight of him. Xavier was dressed casually this time, in dark slacks and a cream colored cashmere shirt. Even dressed down, he looked utterly delicious.

“Good morning. I brought you breakfast.”

Giselle gapped at him for a moment before stepping back to let him in. She knew there was no point in asking him how he knew where she lived. The man clearly knew more than he should know about her.

“Umm… thank you.”

Giselle could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks as he glanced around her small apartment. It was clean and comfortable, but she knew it wasn’t what a man like him was used to. Hell, it wasn’t really what she was used to. But it was hers and she was working hard to make it a safe space. She watched as he made his way into her kitchen, confidently setting containers on the counters like he belonged there.

“I wasn’t quite sure what you like, so I got a variety of things. Coffee?”

“Um… yes please.”

Xavier glanced over at her as he slid a cup of coffee across the counter to her.

“I thought we could continue last night’s discussion. If you’re up to it.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks when he brought up his illicit offer again. Last night, she’d tentatively agreed, but in the light of day, she was having some second thoughts. A man as powerful as Xavier could destroy her reputation and her life if he wanted to. He had the money and connections to ruin her. That same money and connections could also give her what she was used to, what she deserved. Why should she suffer just because she wouldn’t be her father’s puppet? Giselle took a small sip of coffee, using the moment to gather her thoughts.

“Ok. How would this work?”

“We’d both sign a contract that outlines the parameters of our agreement. I also ask that we talk about your likes and dislikes… your hard boundaries.”

“I thought you said I didn’t have to sleep with you.”

“I’m not going to force you, Savannah. I’m not an animal. But you’re crazy if you don’t think I’m attracted to you. Of course I eventually want you in my bed.” 

Giselle sat her hands on the counter, bracing herself against it.

“What’s in this for you, Xavier? I still don’t understand why you’re doing this. What are you getting out of it? You could have just, you know, asked me on a date like a normal guy.”

“Dating without certain parameters isn’t feasible for a man in my position. In the past, I’ve found that women like to run to the tabloids and exaggerate our exploits. I like what I like and I won’t apologize for it. But I also value my privacy. I feel like if you also have something to lose, like access and money, you’re less likely to run that pretty little mouth.”

“So as long as I’m quiet and you get what you want, I’m good.”

“Giselle, the contract will benefit you as well. If for some reason, you and I decided to end our arrangement, I would pay you a lump sum. I wouldn’t just leave you with nothing unless you violated a clause in the contract.”

“Ever thought about trying a matchmaker?”

Xavier looked down at her, a smirk tugging at the corners of his full lips.

“I prefer Black women and there’s not a market for that in matchmaking. I’d also rather not explain my predilection for kink.”

Giselle nibbled on her full bottom lip as she thought his offer over. The way he made it sound, she really had nothing to lose from at least agreeing to try this out. While she was lost in her thoughts, he prepared a small plate for her and sat it down in front of her.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I can just see the questions in your head,” he said with a small smile. “Go ahead and ask.”

Xavier licked his lips, those feline eyes of his settling on her. Even from across the counter, he was intimidating. There was just this energy he exuded. It was more than power. It almost felt magnetic, like he was drawing her over to the dark side. And she couldn’t deny it. She was curious as to what it would be like to belong to a man like Xavier Savage.

“What are your parameters?”

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[passionxwrites]

The agony of thinking you’re finished doing the dishes only to turn around and to your horror: the pot.

[passionxwrites]

Part 4 of Summer Romance is posted!!!

[passionxwrites]

Summer Romance 4

Pairings: ModernAU! Elias "Stack" Moore x BlaclOC! (Cymone) x Elijah "Smoke" Moore

Warnings: MDNI, cursing, use of N word, a dash of angst, some fluff, Mary being Mary

Word Count: 4.9K

Masterlist

Stack

Stack stared Cymone down as she stood across from him, fiddling with the ends of her shirt, refusing to look him in the eye. They had long since helped her grandma put away the groceries. Soon after the woman retired to her room upstairs saying she wasn’t in the mood to cook for nobody grown tonight. Now it was just them and the silence.

“You wanna know how I knew you was different,” Stack finally spoke bringing life back into the quiet room.

Cymone slowly glanced up from her hands and looked at him but still not in the eye. Stack could only grin knowing she was scared shitless.

“How,” she said as she finally found her voice.

“You was ten. Duke had been telling us how you had started running away to stay at his house cause of yo folks. It was the first time he had really brought you around us. I saw you and asked Duke since when he had a lil brother. You punched me square in the jaw before I could even blink,” he said with a laugh as recounted the day.

“I knew then you was gone always be there to hand me my ass when I took it too far. Something I needed.”

“Man please. Smoke do the same thing,” she mumbled as if she didn’t believe him.

“Yeah but he don’t do it like you. You got this way about you that screams confidence. Like you can’t be fucked with and it ain’t just cause you can fight. It’s your whole demeanor. I ain’t never seen nothing like it no matter who I came across.”

Cymone’s presence left big shoes to fill when the twins left. Stack looked for that same fiery spirit unknowingly in every woman he met but they could never be her.

“My daddy killed my mama that day y’all left,” Cymone admitted quietly. Stack stared at her in disbelief as he noticed her eyes had once again found the floor.

“I was so mad when y’all left cause I went to look for y’all that night and I saw that yellow tape outside and I immediately thought the worst cause of what had already happened. I finally got a hold of Duke and he said y’all daddy was killed in a robbery gone wrong and y’all had left to go stay with some family but he couldn’t tell me where.”

Stack looked down at his hands for a minute before he looked up to see her already looking at him with tears in her eyes. It was obvious something in her had broken that day and they had only made it worse by disappearing without a trace. Him and Smoke wanted to say bye to Cymone before they left that day. Hell, he even wanted to tell her where they was going so they could keep in touch but Smoke said it wouldn’t be safe for her because of what they had done.

“Punkin, I ain’t gone ever be able to say sorry enough for how we left. We was running from some shit. Some shit I can’t tell you bout right now but I’m sorry we wasn’t here after ya mama passed. We shoulda been there for that,” he said softly as he wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on top of hers.

They stood there for a few minutes and Stack could feel Cymone’s breathing even out before he pulled back some and rested his forehead against hers.

“Me and Smoke gone take you out tomorrow. You can ask whatever you need to and we can figure all this out together,” he said, not really leaving much room for Cymone to say no.

“Okay, what time I need to be ready,” she asked almost timidly while looking up at him through her long lashes.

“We gone pick you up round 12. Take you to brunch at Char,” he said with a smile on his face knowing that was one of her favorite places from stalking her instagram.

“Okay, I’ll see y’all then.”

Stack continued to look down at her as he took her in. If he could etch her face into his brain so it would be the first and last thing he saw everyday he would. No woman had ever had him this wrapped around their finger. The man was too whipped.

With a kiss on the forehead Stack bid her a farewell as he trotted out of her house and to his jeep outside. A smile was permanently on his face knowing they were closer than ever to having Cymone. He damn near felt like he had won the lottery. That smile stayed on his face the whole 15 minute drive to him and Smoke’s home. He pulled his truck in beside his brothers car and just as he hopped out he finally took notice of the smoke grey Kia parked on the street. His eyes furrowed a little due to not recognizing the truck and his instinct had him reaching for his pistol on his hip. Just as he got his hand around the gun somebody stepped out and he quickly cursed under his breath.

It would be this crazy bitch.

“It’s a shame I gotta follow you around the city just to have a conversation with you Elias.”

“What the hell you want Mary,” Stack huffed out aggressively as he ignored her approaching frame while walking up to the front door. He unlocked it and walked in noticing her following quickly behind him. He whipped his body around to block her from gaining entry into their home.

“I ain’t invite you in,” he said matter of factly garnering the attention of his older brother who was exiting the kitchen. From the corner of his eye he could see Smoke peeking around his shoulder before shaking his head after seeing who it was.

“Handle that,” Smoke said simply as he continued on down the hall to his room. Stack heard his door close and turned his attention back to the nuisance in front of him.

“You know what I want Elias. I want you!”

“Lower your got damn voice,” he hissed as he looked past her to see if anyone could hear her acting a ass.

“I already told yo ass ain’t no us Mary! You married to that nice white man like you need to be. Me and you was never a thing and we ain’t gone ever be no thing.”

“You and Smoke made me marry that man. I never wanted to be with him! I’m unhappy sleeping with somebody I don’t wanna be with. I should be with you.”

“We ain’t make you marry nobody. I told you it would be safer for you to be with him cause we wasn’t no good and you ran and did it cause you so hell bent on doing whatever you think gone make me happy. Newsflash Mary, you was a nut. Nothin more and nothin less.”

Mary drew her head back like she was appalled before she reared her hand back as if she was gone slap him. Stack quickly caught it and threw it down to her side.

“So I ain’t good enough for you but that lil bitch Cymone is?”

Before Mary could get the question out good enough Stack already had her shirt balled up in his hand as he yanked her close to him.

“Imma say this to ya hard headed ass once and once only. Don’t ever open yo mouth to call Cymone out her name. She ain’t to be disrespected,” he spat out with venom before he all but tossed her back and slammed the door in her face ending the conversation. He knew this wouldn’t be the end of Mary. She felt as though she was entitled to him and she wasn’t gone give up till she had him.

Stack sat down on the couch and rubbed his temples feeling a headache coming on. Today had been a lot and he needed a drink before he took it in for the night. Just as he was about to get up and go to the kitchen he could hear a door open before footsteps came down the hall.

“You check that bitch?”

“Yeah nigga. Fuck I look like?”

“Look like a nigga that need to keep it in his pants but what do I know,” Smoke said with a lil chuckle as he followed Stack into the kitchen.

“Akikiki funny ass nigga. Glad I could be yo entertainment for the night,” Stack said as he yanked down a bottle of Hennessy and proceeded to pour it into a glass and throw it back.

“I knew that white girl was gone be trouble but I tell yo ass this, she touch Cymone and I’ll kill her,” Smoke said and Stack knew that he meant that with everything in him. They didn’t play about Cymone and it wouldn't be the first time somebody was killed behind her. She didn’t know that though.

“I told her we gone take her to Char tomorrow. Let her ask her questions. Get used to us,” Stack said as he leaned against the counter.

“Good, good. Tired of chasing after her lil ass.”

“Yeah she is slippery,” Stack said with a mischievous smirk letting the words hang in the air.

Smoke slowly turned to him with a squint in his eye before he chuckled.

“Keep yo hands to yo self tomorrow. At least until we get everything out on the table.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said with his hands raised.

Smoke

Smoke got up with a start early the next morning at 5 am before the sun had even risen so he could do his morning jog. He quickly brushed his teeth and threw on a dri-fit shirt and a pair of shorts and hit the door. After he ran a mile he made his way back to the house to see Stack just finishing up his morning workout in the backyard.

“Mornin.”

“Mornin. Aye Duke called last night after you went to sleep. Said he think he found somebody to be the cook down at the club.”

“Bet. That’s the last thing we need. We get a cook we can be open next Friday,” Smoke said with a nod of his head. Everything had been going to plan with the club and the twins were excited to finally open and make good on their investment. They had almost everything riding on this club.

Smoke looked down at his watch and noticed it was nearing 10 am and decided it was time to shower so they could go pick up Cymone. After an hour both twins were dressed and outside of Cymone’s house. Smoke decided it would be best to go get her instead of texting that they were outside. He walked up to the door and rang the doorbell holding onto the bouquet of sunflowers tight. He had never been on a date before so he was a lil nervous. A few seconds later the door opened to none other than her grandma.

“Good morning Ms. Loretta,” Smoke said with a polite smile.

“Good morning Elijah. Let me guess those are for my baby,” she spoke back with a little smile on her face.

“Yes ma’am. May I come in?”

“Sure sweetie. Tell Elias he might as well get on out that hot car cause that girl ain’t nowhere near ready,” she stated as she held the door open for him. Smoke turned and nodded his head signaling for his brother to get out the car as he began walking into the house. It always smelled sweet like peaches in there. Ms. Etta didn’t play about keeping her house in order.

Smoke and Stack made themselves comfortable on the couch and Ms. Etta sat across from them on her favorite arm chair.

“She gone be a lil minute. She a lil nervous but while we wait I wanna talk to you boys,” she said as she looked at the both of them.

Smoke sat up straighter in his seat realizing that this was going to be something serious and he noticed Stack slide his phone into his pocket. She had their undivided attention.

“Now I don’t have a problem with you two courtin my baby. It’s a lil unorthodox but people been doing this since before I was born so who I am to judge,” she took a slight pause before she continued pinning them to the couch with the most pointed look they had ever seen.

“My Punkin done been through a lot. Some stuff yall know and some yall don’t. The point I am making is fellas is that I will live and die by that girl because I couldn’t do it for her mother. If one of yall hurt her in any way I will make sure that there will be some slow singing and flower bringing shortly after. Do we have an understanding?”

Both men quickly threw out a yes ma’am understanding just where the older woman was coming from and neither wanted to get on her bad side.

“Great, now that that’s settled let me see what’s taking these girls so long. Cymone know she love to keep somebody waiting.”

“I heard that,” Cymone yelled down the stairs just as Reana began to emerge from the second level.

“Hey there Ben and Jerry. She’ll be down in a couple seconds,” she said with laughter knowing the nicknames got under their skin.

“I bet you get on yo own mama nerves,” Stack said with a frown on his face as she took a seat on the arm of the couch.

“Yeah. So,” she asked with her lips turned up as she looked down at her phone. Smoke felt a smirk growing on his lips as he knew just what to say to get her ass back.

“Sammie said y’all had a realll good time after y’all date a couple nights ago,” he said insinuating he knew what happened after they ate dinner.

Reana instantly straightened where she sat before she turned her head to him. Her face was set into the meanest scowl she could muster.

“You lucky we in Ms. Etta house or I’d let you know something. Tell your cousin to stop calling me,” she said just as she turned her attention to the stairs and a little squeal came from her. Almost like a pig. Smoke and Stack both followed her line of vision to Cymone descending down the stairs.

She came down so gracefully it almost looked like she was floating. Smoke was amazed at the very being that was her. She had on a yellow sundress with pink flowers. On her feet she wore a pair of heels with a bunch of straps that were tied up to her calf and her hair was styled in a bun at the back of her head. Smoke quickly rose to his feet the minute her foot hit the last step and grasped the flowers in his hand. She walked over to stand in front of the both of them and he noticed Stack was already standing as well with his hands behind his back as he rocked back and forth on his feet.

I know this nigga ain’t nervous.

Cymone was obviously affecting the both of them greatly and she didn’t even realize how much.

“These are for you,” Smoke said a lil too fast for his own liking as he held the flowers out for her to take. Cymone stared at the both of them with a knowing smile on her face like she could see the nerves bouncing between them.

“You niggas nervous,” Reana interjected as she looked over the two men in disbelief.

Smoke narrowed his eyes over at her and he could hear Stack muttering a ‘shut the fuck up’ low enough so Ms. Etta wouldn’t hear him.

“Chill Re,” Cymone finally spoke as her angelic giggle filled the room. She took the flowers from Smoke as she leaned in to give him a hug.

“Thank you Jah,” she said as she called him by the nickname she had given him years ago. She would call him Jah and call Stack Eli. Always said she didn’t wanna be like everybody else and call them Smoke and Stack all the time because they weren’t just Smoke and Stack to her.

“You boys look nice. I guess I’ll let y’all take me out in public,” she said with a smirk as she handed the flowers off to Reana, gave her grandma a hug, and grabbed her purse. Stack grabbed her hand as Smoke led the way to Stack’s truck. He stopped in front of the passenger seat and helped her in before getting into the backseat.

The ride to the restaurant was short but quiet. Cymone didn’t really say much unless one of them asked her a question and Smoke knew her nerves were getting the best of her as well. They soon pulled into the parking lot of Char and Smoke made quick work of getting out, opening her door, and helping her out the truck. He grabbed her hand and led her around to the other side where Stack immediately grabbed a hold of her other hand. Smoke could feel her tense for a moment before she relaxed and they made the short walk to the door. They entered the establishment and approached the hostess stand. Stack continued to hold her hand and Smoke decided to place his hand on her lower back.

“Moore. Table for 3,” Stack called out to the hostess who looked down at her iPad before looking up with a smile and beckoning them to follow. Thankfully they were placed at a secluded circular booth where they would have enough privacy for their conversation. The hostess bid them farewell and they all sat down. Cymone, who was placed between the two of them, quickly picked up the menu. Smoke noticed her using the menu as deflection and immediately cleared his throat.

“So I’m sure you know why we here. Me and Stack don’t wanna pressure you into something you uncomfortable with so you say the word and we can dead this shit and act like it never happened,” Smoke spoke reassuringly as he analyzed her. Cymone continued to stare down at the menu but he could tell she was really thinking and soon she spoke.

“I’m not uncomfortable, I promise. I’m just a lil scared. I’d always had a lil crush on y’all back in the day but I guess I never expected either one of y’all to like me back. Let alone the both of you,” she said honestly.

Smoke sat pensively for a second as he tried to find the right words. He could understand where she was coming from. They hadn’t really expected to fall for her that fast either but she was like a flame and they were moths that couldn’t stay away.

“We just want you to know this ain’t no game for us. We wanna court you the right way and really build something,” Smoke said as he grabbed her hand.

“Yeah, we know you scared of what other people gone think but fuck them folks Punkin. They can’t do nothing but judge,” Stack interjected as well.

“It’s so easy for y’all to say fuck these people because y’all not the woman in this situation, I am. People ain’t gone be looking at y’all crazy for sharing somebody but I’m gone be looked at as a whore for being with two men at one time. Jackson ain’t that damn progressive like everywhere else. It’s still a lot of stupid ass conservative motherfuckas with opinions on every corner,” she said passionately as her voice raised a little.

“But I’m not saying that to say that I don’t wanna at least try. Y’all just gone have to be patient with me. Please,” she said almost pleadingly as she took a turn to look at both Smoke and Stack.

“I can speak for the both of us and say that we can go at whatever pace you need. Long as you willing to try we willing to try with you,” Stack said matter of factly while Smoke nodded in agreement.

Cymone

After the slightly tense but very productive conversation the three quickly fell into their usual routine. After they ordered they talked, ate, and Cymone threatened to slap the shit out of Stack after he tried to steal a piece of bacon from her plate. It made her heart smile and she felt a little hope that things wouldn’t change drastically as they took these steps in a new direction. A small part of her was kind of excited to see how life would be with the twins in a romantic sense rather than just being friends.

After they were done eating they all hopped in the car. They had to take her home so they could handle some business at the club and Cymone was a little bummed that her time with them was ending so quickly. They pulled up to her house and Smoke of course made quick work of opening her door but he paused as he noticed the pout on her face.

“What’s wrong with you,” he asked with a smirk on his face. He was obviously amused at how she was acting.

“It ain’t nothing wrong with me,” Cymone stated with a roll of her eyes as she turned her body to step out of the truck. Before she could get her foot on the step down Smoke halted her with a firm grip on her thigh catching her off guard.

“We moving slow but one thing we need to get clear is that attitude shit ain’t gone work Sugar. Now if you want something you need to be a big girl and open yo mouth,” he said as he lightly grabbed her chin for added emphasis. Cymone straightened her back and swallowed a little before noddigg by her head. Smoke tsked with a shake of his head.

“I said open yo mouth.”

“Sorry. I just wasn’t ready for y’all to go is all,” she finally admitted, causing Stack to chuckle from the passenger seat.

“Okay then now was that so hard,” Smoke answered in a mocking tone causing her to puff out her cheeks to refrain from rolling her eyes again.

“Smoke gotta head down to Olive Branch to meet up with our liquor distributor after this meeting we got but I can come back by here and we have a lil movie night. That alright with you?”

Cymone had visibly cheered up and immediately yelped out a yes as she turned and wrapped her arms around Stacks neck while placing a big smooch on his cheek. She then turned back to Smoke and repeated the same actions before she jumped out the truck.

Stack walked her up to the door while Smoke waited in the car and once Cymone was safely inside the home she watched them pull off. She couldn’t help but to let out a little squeal now that she was in the confines of her home.

“I have got to call Reana!”

Cymone quickly ran up the stairs to her room and flung herself backwards onto her bed with her phone in hand. She scrolled until she found Reana’s contact and pressed on it to ring her phone. After a couple seconds Reana’s voice could be heard through the speaker.

“Bitchhhh!! How was it,” Reana dragged out excitedly.

“It was so nice Re. We started off talking about us or whatever and I told them I wanted to take things slow because this is really a lot. I can’t just jump off the deep end you know.”

“Real!”

“Then after we got all the serious talk out the way we just ate and talked and it just really felt so normal like old times. I was having such a good time I was a lil sad when they had to drop me off but Stack coming back here later for a movie night.”

“Oooooo what kinda movie night,” Reana asked suggestively.

“A normal one bitch. I ain’t finna get spread eagle on Ganny couch like you was in that big backseat.”

As soon as the sentence left Cymone’s mouth a deep chuckle could be heard from the other side of the phone followed by the sound of a smack. Cymone quickly sat up in the bed as her face frowned up.

“Girl. I know that ain’t who I think it is,” she asked as she heard Reana smacking her teeth.

“This nigga don’t know how to mind his damn business foo I swear. Sammie over here.”

“Wowwwww. He been listening this whole time? I should slap the shit out of you.”

“I’m sorry!! He got here right before you called and I told him to put his AirPods in cause this was a A,B fucking conversation!”

“Stop hitting me Reana. Damn!”

Cymone could hear what sounded like a scuffle coming from the other end so she immediately decided it was time to end this conversation.

“Okay girl! I’ll talk to you tomorrow cause you’re obviously busy and I don’t wanna hear what this might turn into. Love you. Bye!”

“Love you too.”

After hanging up the phone with Reana Cymone continued to lay on the bed as she scrolled through instagram. Eventually she got so bored she fell asleep but was awakened by the doorbell ringing. Her face formed into a look of confusion. Ganny was out with her friend Barbara and Duke hadn’t said anything about coming by so she had no idea who it could be. She checked her phone to see she had been asleep for about 3 hours and there was a text from Stack saying he would be there in 15 minutes. She decided to finally get up to get the door to see who was at the house. She made her way down the stairs and checked the security camera to see a blue Hellcat outside.

Rashad

Cymone opened the door to see Rashad standing there with a small smirk on his face.

“Ummm what the hell you doing at my house,” she asked him with a look of disbelief.

“Damn you ain’t happy to see me,” he asked as he leaned back as if he was offended.

Cymone only crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe as she stared at him through the screen door.

“Rashad cut the bullshit aight. You ain’t had shit to say to me since Tricia party when I turned you down so why are you here now?”

“I missed you,” he said simply as if that was just supposed to be it.

Cymone looked at him as if he had lost his damn mind. Just as she was to tear him a new asshole she could see Stacks Jeep pulling up.

“Look Rashad you can gone on home cause it’s nothing here for you okay. It’s time for you to leave.”

She truly just wanted him to go ahead and leave without a scene before Stack put him on his ass cause she knew the man wasn’t above it. The last thing she needed was nosey ass Mrs. Arnold to be telling Ganny that men was fighting outside her house.

Rashad also noticed the vehicle parking behind and turned to watch Stack exit the truck. He chuckled as he turned back to Cymone.

“Ohhh I get it. I can’t hit but the Wonder Twin can?”

“Oh shut the fuck up. I tried to nicely tell yo ass it was time to go but you don’t hear kindness so hear this. Get the fuck off my property nigga,” Cymone said finally having enough. Rashad swiped at his nose with a smirk and threw his hands up while backing away. He passed Stack and looked him up and down before looking at Cymone again.

“I’ll see you around Cymone.”

Stack approached the door with a look on his face and Cymone just put her hand up with a shake of her head.

“I really don’t wanna talk about it,” she said as she unlocked the screen door to let him in. Once they were both inside the home she noticed he had a bag full of snacks.

“Ooooo what’s this,” she as tries to peak into the bag but Stack is fast as he teasingly snatches it away and wags his finger in her face.

“Aht aht. Go put something comfortable on and I’ll be down here setting up,” he said as he turned her body towards the stairs.

“Wait setting up what up?”

“Don’t question me woman. Get ya lil ass up the stairs.”

Cymone practically ran to her room and through on a pair of loose fitting gray sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. She made sure her slicked back bun was still tamed and made her way back down the stairs. As soon as her foot hit the bottoms step she let out a little gasp. Stack had transformed the room into a picnic area. He moved the couch back and spread out blankets across the floor. He had all of the lights off and candles lit in various areas of the room and he had the snacks spread out across the blankets.

“Awwww Eli,” she cooed as she stepped further into the room.

“You like it,” he asked as he rubbed the back of his neck in anticipation.

“I love it,” she yelped as she threw her arms around neck and pulled him down for a peck on the lips.

Stack cheesed the biggest he probably ever had before making Cymone laugh a little.

“Come on! I wanna watch Us first!”

Note: Heyyyy you guys!! Sorry this chapter is a little late. I had a lot going on but we are here now and that's all that matters. Also I wanted to make y'all aware of a small change. I decided to make the twins 5 years older than Cymone instead of 8. I just felt like that was a really big gap so that now makes Cymone 20 and the twins 25. Also next part there will be a small time jump just so I can really get things rolling and jump into the meat of Cymone's new relationship with Smoke and Stack. Other than that I hope you all enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think!! See y'all next time!

Tag List: @angryflowerwitch @cleo92bitch-i-am-old @reci1996 @hoodpr1ncessdiana @cerya @rose-bliss @thickemadame @katezy2x @roughridah0 @5starsirl @woahthatshitfat @sassymemoryelixir @iiiheartfayee @melinatedlifeline @stankface @flaps200 @thefutureemmywinner @junkie05

[passionxwrites]

Summary:

000: https://www.tumblr.com/writerbee-ffs/784659392500023296/000

001:

Atlanta, 1992

ShaNiece McIntyre, 33

Oh baby, baby, baby

I got so much love in me

Ooh (baby, baby) baby, baby, baby

‘Cause if you’re gonna get me off

You gotta love me deep…

ShaNiece swayed her hips to the newest TLC track, wine cooler in hand, curves dipping low with every beat. She was in her element. Vibing. Glowing. Free.

Her mama had finally caved and agreed to watch Shanaye for the night. Fifteen or not, that little girl had more energy than most grown folks, and ShaNiece—thirty, fine, and flying solo—needed a break.

Sure, she’d made what Big Mama still called “the biggest mistake of her life” at eighteen. But that baby saved her. Made her sharper. Wiser. Stronger. She went to college, graduated top of her class, and broke into finance like a storm in heels. In a world full of men trying to “rescue” her from single motherhood, she was already saving herself—six figures deep, child in tow.

She was good. Or so she thought.

“Damn, Niecy! Slow down on them drinks, girl!” Belinda—BeBe to the crew—called out, passing her a murky shot of something strong.

ShaNiece laughed, tossing it back without hesitation. The burn kissed the back of her throat and lit her chest with fire. “Girl, I don’t get out like this often. Let me shake this ass in peace!”

The bass dropped, and the house party roared to life. BeBe kept the shots flowing, and ShaNiece kept dancing like the night owed her joy.

Then he came.

He didn’t ask. He just stepped behind her like he’d been invited by the rhythm itself. He’d been watching, she could feel it. His body slid into place behind hers, close but not too close, letting the music guide them. He wanted to catch what she was throwing—and baby, she threw it well.

When the next beat hit, she paused, teasing, until his breath brushed her ear.

“You scared now?”

His voice was smooth, deep and sure. Her hips responded before she could. Fueled by liquor and laughter, she rolled her ass back into him like it was their song playing—and it damn sure was. He matched her every move, gripping her waist, hips meeting hers with intention. A few heads turned. Let them watch.

“That’s it, lil’ mama,” he murmured, before spinning her to face him.

ShaNiece caught her breath. His golds flashed when he smiled. Coogi sweater. Baggy jeans. Mustache thick and neat. Skin the color of sweet caramel. His eyes were hidden behind shades, but she didn’t need to see them to know he was fine. Real fine.

“You tryna fuck me on the dance floor?” she teased, snapping her fingers in his face. “Helloooo?”

“You always got an attitude like that?” he asked, raising one brow as he pushed his shades higher.

She smirked. “Only when men act brand new after grinding on me for four songs straight. What’s your name?”

“You can call me Stack.” He lifted his hand to show a gold-plated ring spelling it across three fingers. “Yours?” He already knew it. He’d heard her friend call her name throughout the night.

“I’m sure that ain’t what your mama named you,” she said, popping her gum and patting her finger waves. “But I feel you.” Her gold earrings swung with flair—Niecey etched on both. “My friends call me Niecey”

“So we friends now?” he asked, grinning.

“We danced, didn’t we? That counts.” She winked, stepping back into the crowd. “Later, Stack.”

“Hol’ up,” he said, catching her wrist.

A jolt shot through both of them. He dropped her hand like it burned and shook his head like he forgot what he meant to say. “Uh… take my number.”

She smirked as he scribbled digits in her palm before they vanished in opposite directions.

⸻

It was close to 2 a.m. when they stumbled out, trying to make the one-block walk to BeBe’s apartment.

“Biiitch, I’m drunk,” BeBe groaned, hunched over a fence. It was their third stop in a five-minute walk that was now dragging into twenty.

“You ain’t lyin’,” ShaNiece muttered, pulling tissues from her fanny pack to dab the sweat from BeBe’s face and spit from her mouth. “Here. Drink.”

BeBe slumped to the grass. “Go without me!”

“You dramatic.” Still, ShaNiece knew they weren’t making it home like this.

She pulled BeBe’s cell from her jeans and called the number in her palm. A shot in the dark.

“Hello?”

That voice. Smooth, like that dark brown liquor she’d been downing all night.

“Niecey?” His tone softened her name like he already missed her.

“Yeah, um… it’s me. I know it’s late but—”

“Where are you?”

She gave him the corner.

BeBe gagged. “I hope this nigga ain’t no murderer! What you know about him?”

“I know he’s giving us a ride. Hush!” ShaNiece palmed her blade, just in case.

Stack pulled up minutes later. The ride was quiet except for the radio—and his humming. She joined in softly, their voices finding a rhythm even without the music.

When they reached the building, he tapped her thigh. “Take your girl in. Come holla at me.”

She paused. “Or… you could come in.”

She wasn’t the one-night stand type. But something about Stack made her brave.

They carried BeBe to bed. ShaNiece made sure she was okay before returning to the living room, kicking off her Reeboks and tugging her earrings off with a chuckle. “We might’ve gone too hard tonight.”

Stack kicked off his sneakers and sank into the couch beside her. “This every weekend?”

She shook her head. “Not even. Between work and my daughter, I’m booked and busy.”

“Then let’s not waste this rare time.”

He leaned in. Kissed her neck. Hands roaming. Mouth hungry.

By the time their lips met, she was pulling him into the spare room.

Clothes hit the floor in rhythm. His Coogi sweater. Her button-down jersey. Her lace bra fell away and he growled, mouth on her chest. Her shorts slid down and she took him in—his strong chest, curved girth springing free. She reached for his glasses.

He pulled away. “No”

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. Just kissed her deeper.

ShaNiece gently reached again, this time with both hands, easing the glasses off.

His eyes were unreal—shifting hues of shimmering silver, and something old. They sparkled like a curse and a promise all in one.

She couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to.

“Damn,” she whispered. ShaNiece kissed his lips to reassure him before leaning back.

She stroked her clit watching him take over. He kissed her down to her center, tongue working slow, fingers thick and skilled. She shook beneath him, whimpering, reaching for him.

“I need you,” she moaned, staring into those eyes. “Please.”

He slid into her slowly, possessively. With every stroke, he seemed to pull lightning from her bones.

“Yeees, Stack!” she cried out.

He zoned in on her neck.

Just a taste, he thought hearing her blood pulsating. Calling out for him.

“You like that, baby?” he whispered in her ear. “I’mma keep fucking you until I’m the only thing you think about.” He growled into her ear licking the tip of it.

She screamed his name, eyes wet with pleasure. He flipped her, stroked her deeper. She climbed on top, riding him backwards. He couldn’t resist that pulsating force.

When he bit her neck, she gasped. The bite—sharp, precise.

Pain bloomed, bright and quick, but it unraveled into something else. Heat. Wetness. A pull so deep it made her knees buckle.

She felt the suction of his mouth, the way he fed—not ravenous, but sensual. Worshipful.

Her breath caught, then spilled out in a moan. Her body trembled against his, hips arching, thighs clenching. It was as if he were drinking more than blood—like he was pulling memories, want, soul from her skin.

She was floating. Melting.

And Stack groaned against her, one hand sliding to pinch her chocolate perky nipple.

“You look so fuckin’ delicious,” he moaned, licking the blood. “Had to taste.” His eyes sparkled more.

She turned to kiss him, tasting herself and him and whatever magic sparked between them.

“You’re mine now, baby,” he whispered against her lips. “Whatever you had before—dead that.”

She stared, expecting a laugh. None came.

Their bodies slapped in time, her bangles rattling like wind chimes. She gave him everything—and he took it, pushed her further, until the world fell away.

When they were done, tangled and sweaty, he whispered, “You’re beautiful,” against her frizzy finger waves.

She laid there, one hand on his chest, circling gently.

He meant every word.

She told herself it was just the drinks talking. Tomorrow, he’d be a faded memory.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was everything.

⸻

Atlanta, 1992

Elias “Stack” Moore POV

He should’ve never touched her.

The moment her ass backed up into him on that dance floor, something in his chest cracked open. He hadn’t felt that kind of pull in decades—not since Mary. But this? This was different. This woman wasn’t casting a spell. She was the spell.

ShaNiece. Niecey. That name settled on his tongue like honey and heat.

When she called him later, voice soft and a little slurred, asking for a favor—he didn’t hesitate. He was halfway to her before she dropped the cross street. It wasn’t just lust pulling him. It was instinct. Fate. Hunger.

He helped carry her friend inside, eyes flicking to every corner. He didn’t sense any other presence. No one watching. No threats.

Except the one inside himself.

When she invited him in, he knew he should’ve said no. He had rules. Boundaries. Protocol. Fallon would curse his whole bloodline if she knew he was entertaining a mortal woman this drunk, this vulnerable.

But she wasn’t vulnerable. She was vivid. Fully alive. That rare kind of woman who knew who she was and didn’t apologize for it. And that laugh? It had weight.

He couldn’t explain it. Didn’t want to.

So he followed her into the back room, watching as she stripped with casual grace, like she’d done this dance a thousand times for no one but herself.

Then she reached for his shades.

“No,” he said too fast, too sharp.

She blinked but didn’t flinch. Just eased her hands back. “What’s wrong?”

But he saw it in her eyes—curiosity. Maybe a little hurt.

He couldn’t let her see. Not yet. Not until he knew what the hell was happening between them.

Because something was happening.

And it scared the hell out of him.

When she touched herself, moaning his name, his resolve cracked. She smelled like warm rain and vanilla and the faintest trace of something familiar. Not perfume. Not lotion.

Bloodline.

The first time he tasted her, tongue pressed to that aching pulse between her legs, it was electric. Tense. She trembled like her body already knew him—like her soul was calling out something her mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

Then she begged for him.

“Please.”

He gave in. Sank into her slow, controlled, trying to keep the beast leashed. But the moment her nails dug into his back and her cries filled the room, he felt it rise The thirst.

He pressed his mouth to her neck and just breathed, trying to ground himself. She smelled divine. Real. Unfiltered. Not the sterile, synthetic blood bags he forced on himself. This woman carried something pure—unspoiled by darkness.

Just a taste, he told himself. Just enough to remember who he used to be.

When he bit down, she gasped. He moaned against her skin.

The blood hit him like a lightning strike. A rush of her hit him—heat and copper, sun-drenched laughter, a child’s cry, an old gospel hum from a porch swing on a Sunday afternoon. Her blood poured over his tongue like silk, thick with grief and joy, survival and sweetness. It wasn’t just sustenance. It was a story.

He gripped her tighter as her body bucked beneath him, her moans hitching on the edge of pain and pleasure. Her heartbeat pounded in his ears, steady and brave. She didn’t scream. She gasped. Then melted.

“Damn, you look so fuckin’ delicious,” he groaned, licking the wound gently, sealing it with his tongue.

The moment he did, her body arched again. Her orgasm hit with tremors—shaking both of them. The taste of her climax still clung to his lips when she turned to kiss him, like she needed to taste what he’d taken.

She kissed him like she knew something.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t push him away. She turned and kissed him like she knew. Like she wanted him still.

He wanted to stop.

But he needed to finish.

So he fucked her like he’d been waiting lifetimes.

Because maybe… he had.

She came apart in his arms, all curses and moans and fingernails, and he held her through it, burying his face in her hair like a man at prayer.

Afterward, she curled against him, fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. Her breathing slowed. Her eyes fluttered closed.

He stared at the ceiling, wide awake.

Not from the sex. Not even from the bite.

But from the knowing.

ShaNiece wasn’t just some fling. She wasn’t random.

He’d felt this before—decades ago, in shadows and dreams. Every couple of years or so, someone would spark that flicker, but it always faded.

This? This burned.

He looked down at her, sleeping like she trusted him.

He didn’t deserve it.

He’d tasted her blood—and buried in it, something simmered beneath the surface. Not just sweetness. Not just warmth.

Something immortal.

Something dangerous.

And for the first time in a long time, Elias “Stack” Moore felt something close to fear.

Because he didn’t know if he’d been sent to protect this woman… or destroy her.

Atlanta, 1992- The Next Day

Elias “Stack” Moore POV

The sky was still painted indigo when he walked into the back office of the club. The city wasn’t fully awake yet—but Fallon was.

Of course she was.

She leaned against the desk, arms crossed, in a black turtleneck and gold hoops. Her eyes—that sharp hazel gold—tracked him like prey.

“Where the fuck were you last night?”

Elias didn’t answer right away. He took off his sweater, dumping it to the side. Peeled off the rest of his clothes one item at a time down to his boxers. He needed to shower.

Fallon didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

“You didn’t check in,” she said, voice low and flat. “And you didn’t feed yesterday.”

He looked up then, jaw tight. “I fed.”

“You fed,” she echoed, nostrils flaring. “Not from a bag.”

He didn’t answer. Just walked past her to the small bar and poured two shots of bourbon. It burned going down, but not enough. He still tasted her.

“I told you,” she said, stepping closer, “the girl from the party. She’s not clean.”

His hand stilled on the glass.

“I didn’t say she was dirty. I meant she’s… special. Like she’s different or something.”

“You think I didn’t feel that?” he muttered, turning toward her.

Fallon’s eyes narrowed.

“So you did see her?”

He didn’t respond. Didn’t have to.

Fallon’s jaw locked. “You bit her.”

He stayed silent.

“You fucking bit her?” Her voice dropped, but it hit like a punch. “Jesus, Elias. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“She was already in it,” he said quietly. “Before I touched her. Before I knew her name.”

“Don’t give me that ‘destiny’ bullshit,” she snapped. “You felt a pull? Great. You know what that means.”

He looked at her then, really looked. Her face was tight with fear—not anger. That scared him more than anything.

“She didn’t scream,” he said. “Didn’t push me away. When I bit her, she leaned in.”

Fallon shook her head. “You don’t get it. That’s worse. That means she already in trouble.”

He stilled. “What?”

Fallon lowered her voice. “Mary.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Then she whispered, “The Juke, Elias.”

“Don’t” he growled.

“They died, Stack. And it tore a hole in you big enough to crawl through. Don’t pretend like this ain’t déjà vu.”

He turned away, gripping the edge of the desk until the wood creaked.

Fallon stepped closer, softer now. “You said she was the only one who ever made you feel like this until she didn’t”

“She broke me on purpose.” He thought of her and the curse she forged in him.

“But this one,” Fallon pressed, “ShaNiece. She’s making you feel again.”

He nodded once. Slow. Painful.

Fallon’s voice trembled. “Then we got a problem. Because if you felt that bond, Stack, if you took ShaNiece’s blood because it called you—you know what comes next.”

He closed his eyes. “Mary.”

Fallon nodded. “She always knows when you give yourself away.”

@rolemodelshit @chaneajoyyy @soufcakmistress @thickemadame @jackierose902109 @blackisy2k @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @bxrbie1 @honeytoffee @wakandamama @fd-writes @lovelymari4 @raysunshine78 @l-auteuse @twistedcharismaaa @dameshaemonique @artsninspo @eye-raq @reci1996 @destinio1 @tastingmellow @ghostfacekill-monger @thehomierobbstark @erikismybitch @theogbadbitch @bakarilennox @passionxwrites @sheabuttahwrites @spicypiscesssss @belleofthefloor @hairhattedghooligan @hippiesandpeacesigns @zillasvilla @wawakanda-btch @triplet-k-a @moihasarrived @stacksrackz @madibee0905 @spideyverseprblms @freyanistics @anniensmoke3 @jayymaria @just-a-little-nut

[passionxwrites]

Hey guys!! I’ll have Part 4 to Summer Romance out tomorrow. So sorry for the delay!!

[passionxwrites]

A LOCK BETWEEN BLUES & RHYMES

𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐱 𝐎𝐂/ 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (Teaser)

・❥⤑

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐘

is the middle sister in the May family. She’s 20 years old with an older sister named Magnolia, a younger sister named Lilac, and a baby brother named Indigo. The family of flowers as the people in town call them. They had only recently moved to Clarksdale, Mississippi from Augusta, Georgia. Not leaving Augusta because of major issues but rather searching for a change, something new. They move into the rural side not too far from town but not close. It’s Mississippi now, and rumors and gossip overrule the town about the new family living on the sides. As Carnation heads into town she meets an array of people and a town she ain’t expect. Some people find her interesting others find as just another someone adding onto the town’s issues. Now Carnation ain’t a quiet girl, but she ain’t a loud one either. She’s a girl who has a diverse imagination and puts her thoughts into rhymes, poems. Speaking her mind and voicing her true emotions onto paper. A way with word, as her mother says. Both figuratively and literally, can be a sass mouth or a poet whenever she want. May get her in trouble or may get her out. But even as unknown as her family may seem, truth comes to light when her father meets the Moore family with Sammie’s Dad. A taste of bad blood from old roots runs through the two separating any future bonds. Sparking tension between the names and creating a bitter taste to start with. But what’s there to be when a young man of the blues from the Moore family admires the underlying witty attitude and deep hearted thoughts in the middle May sister? Something forbidden lies between the two but they just can’t stay away. The high of the risk, the thrill of the chase, the smooth talking with sassy comebacks, and the beat of their hearts after every interaction.But how will they fix the lock between blues and rhymes? Will it fix their family issues or will they be stuck behind their dispute?

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏: 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯…

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐: 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯…

𝐀/𝐍 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Heyyy guys… 🧍‍♀️ so I came up with this fic series idea, yes it’s gonna be a series I got the idea and vibe for it but I still have to create some sort of plot and how it’s gonna play out. I also might have to do some history research to try and make the story have some realistic aspects. There is definitely gonna be more than 2 parts but idk for sure on the parts rn so they’re just place holders for now. You can read this as x reader but I do kind of have a bit of a look for her, slightly chubby, locs , and brown skin. You can read it and jsut imagine her different if that’s what you want to do though! This series also won’t follow the events of sinners so no vampires and death will occur but the juke joint will still be in the story. But I hope you guys enjoyed the teaser, a little summary to get you excited! Hopefully it won’t take me too long to form part 1 but send some ideas/suggestions in for how the story should play out, greatly appreciated! Ty guys for reading, I love youuu

[passionxwrites]

HI GUYSSS

I just wanted to drop a playlist for "Cold Water", which i am dropping in a couple of days.

Hopefully this can kind of give you an idea of what kind of theme i'm going for, if you do choose to give it a listen.

It's not super upbeat......

But it's not super sad either.....in my opinion...

so..

I highly recommend the first 2 songs tho

It's seriously on point to what i'm thinking of, like i want it to give earthy/mysterious/siren-idk

COLD WATER: OFFICAL PLAYLIST

"Sidetracked/Perfect Lover" x Tanerelle

"Mama Saturn's Galactica" x Tanerelle

"Serial Recluse" x Samaria

"iKNOW" x Sangstaa & Trent the HOOLiGAN

"Gonna Love Me" x Teyana Taylor

"Stay Ready (What a Life)" x Jhene Aiko & Kendrick Lamar

"Sonder Son" x Brent Faiyaz

" One Night Only" x Sonder

"Infatuation" x Jamie Foxx

"PRIDE" x Kendrick Lamar

"Video" x India Arie

"Something in My Heart" x Michel'le

"Pretty Wings" x Maxwell

"Didn't Cha Know" x Erica Badu

"Special Affair" x The Internet

"Haunted" x Beyonce

-------------

Other than this i have another fic idea that i want to post and this time it's for stack and it called " Rude Boy," which i am really excited to share sooner or later

But for now

If you like the Idea of "Cold Water" or "Rude Boy" here are some links to my other works, even though it may not be much.

Modern/Au Elijah "Smoke" Moore: Cocoa Butter

Modern/Au Elias "Stack" Moore: Coffee

MBJ: 40Days And 40Nights

----------

See what i'm working with:

@s-witch-bitch @junkie05 @christinabae @hotcommodityyy @thefutureemmywinner @passionxwrites @heyyimmisunderstood @he4rts444mi @speakinglife @browngirldominion @favoritten @ @speakinglife

[passionxwrites]

So Good Part 1/?

Sugar Daddy! Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Black! Reader

Don't Copy My Work 😐

Elijah “Smoke” Moore has been my main squeeze—AKA sugar daddy—for the past year. I’m a twenty-one-year-old college girl just trying to get some money. When he DM’d me on Instagram wanting some company, I was surprised, but also intrigued.

“Hello, lil mama.”

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“You can help me by allowing me the pleasure of enjoying your company.”

“Mhm, why do you want my company?”

“Because I see a pretty thing, and I want to spoil her.”

“Send a picture of what you look like.”

Once he sent over a picture—mustache and beard combo, head full of waves, a gold chain to match, and drop-dead gorgeous features—I was instantly hooked. My roommate Tracey chimed in, “Damn, he looks good,” causing me to jump in surprise—I hadn’t even noticed her. I whipped my head around. “Girl, make your presence known! I almost punched you. "Tracey scoffed, waving a hand in my face. “Explain who that fine chocolate is on your phone.”I turned back to focus on my screen. “Just some guy who wants my attention." Tracey laughed. “But that isn’t new—all the guys want your attention." I smacked my lips. “Well, this guy wants my company in exchange for spoiling me.”“Oh, so a sugar daddy,” Tracey realized. “Yeah. I’ll let you know what happens,” I promised, trying to get back to my conversation.

My roommate walked away. “Well, I’ll be watching Bad Girls Club. See you later.”

Four months later, it’s been nothing but sugar baby bliss. Smoke has this way of making you feel cherished—he really enjoys taking care of me. He’s quiet and shy, but he’s oh-so-sweet. Just the way I like it. I don’t want a man who does too much—but I want him to do a lot when it comes to us.

In public, Smoke gives off a tough persona, but people don’t know he’s a lover—and I’ll keep that secret. It’s summer vacation, and he’s been taking me around the world and treating me like a princess. We’re currently at the mall, shopping just for fun.

“Where do you want to go shopping first, baby?” he asks, pulling me closer by the waist.

I scrunch up my face while thinking, then spot a Jimmy Choo sign and immediately drag Smoke along. He’s always been good at giving me the space to explore without interfering—treating me like I’m not one.

We walk deeper into the store and spot a mini couch for him to sit on.

“Go take a seat, baby. Get comfortable,” I suggest, softly rubbing his back as he towers over me. His pretty brown eyes never leave mine.

Before he sits, he leans down and plants a kiss on my full lips. He slowly opens his mouth, requesting tongue as we get lost in our kisses. Moments later, I pull away, distracted.

“We’re getting carried away,” I admit, gently pushing back. “I’m sorry, baby,” I say, feeling guilty.

Smoke’s eyes never leave mine as he sits down, biting his lip and smirking a little. “It’s alright, baby. You’ll make it up to me later,” he promises, then pulls out his phone to handle business—work and investments and all that.

I explore the store for an hour before I find four pairs of shoes I want.

“Baby, I’m ready to get out of here.”

Smoke puts his phone away, rises from his seat—his gold chain swinging—and grabs the shoes in one hand and my smaller hand in the other.

“Let’s go, lil mama.”

After we leave Jimmy Choo, we stop by a local jewelry store. Elijah’s been dying to get me some jewelry. As I walk in, I take in the all-white displays filled with gorgeous pieces and bright lights. Smoke never lets go of my hand while carrying the big bag of shoes in the other.

As I walk past one of the displays, I see a white gold diamond tennis bracelet and necklace set, along with a pink ruby set beside it—which makes me stop in my tracks. Elijah chuckles.

“Which one should I get, baby?” I ask, inching closer to the glass, hypnotized by their beauty. “Why not both?” he replies, kissing my forehead. I turn to look at him. “Seriously?” I want them so bad—I just don’t want to get overly excited. “Of course. Only the best for you, lil mama. You seem to forget—it’s my job to spoil you. You’re also getting a set of earrings to match,” Elijah insists. After grabbing a store attendant, we get both sets—and a pair of pink ruby earrings to match. “Sir, your total comes out to be $7,500,” the cashier saysElijah whips out that black card so damn fast. “Thank you for your services, sir.”

On the car ride back to Elijah’s house, he’s driving with one hand on my thigh while I control the radio. When my favorite song—So Good by Big Sean ft. Kash Doll—comes on (I love this song so much btw), I start singing along and lean over to rub my hand on his head.

Last time I let you fuck, it was amazin’ shit

Love a nigga who aint scared to put his face in it

And I still remember every place you licked

So I sucked the soul outchea just think that dick

I’m a nasty bitch, I can take that shit

Pussy tight as long johns, I’ma make that fit

As I continue reciting Kash Doll’s verse, I glance over to see Smoke smiling wide with a little blush on his face. I know my sugar daddy loves being bragged on, so I don’t mind giving props when they’re due. I lean over to kiss his bearded cheek.

When we arrive home, I take my bags upstairs while Elijah gets started on dinner.

“Baby, I’m cooking tonight. I sent the chef home for the weekend—so it’s just me and you,” he tells me as I head up the stairs to put my things in our shared closet.

Two hours later, we’re laid up on the couch watching TV, our stomachs full. I doze off on his chest until I’m gently shaken awake.

“Time to go upstairs and take a shower,” Smoke demands, rubbing my back.

I whine in protest—I just want to sleep.

“Stop whining before I give you something to whine about, girl.”

That shuts me up quick, because I know I won’t be getting any sleep if he follows through.

“Sorry, Papa,” I apologize, leaning up to kiss his full lips.

“It’s okay. Now let’s go—I’ll clean you myself,” he promises.

He walks behind me to make sure I make it up the stairs, then steps ahead to warm up the shower. I sit on the edge of the bed, sleepily undressing. When he comes out and sees me naked, he tells me to hop in—he’ll be there in a minute.

Moments later, he joins me, washing me first with gentle care before taking care of himself.

We hop out and get dressed. I change into one of his shirts and a pair of panties, with my bonnet on. He’s already in bed, shirtless, in pajama pants. I lay down on my side of the bed and notice a few missed calls from my roommate, Tracey.

I lean my head on Smoke’s chest.

“I’m gonna call Tracey real quick before we go to bed.”

He rubs my head and kisses it as he turns on the television.

I FaceTime Tracey.

“Where have you been, girl? I haven’t seen you in person in a week!”

I pan the camera to show Elijah watching TV.

“Wow. I thought we were a sisterhood, but it is not a sisterhood right now,” she playfully cries, being dramatic.

I scoff and roll my eyes. “Don’t start. I’ll be home in a few days.”

“You better remember, girl—we still gotta go out of town for our girls' trip, remember?”

Elijah chimes in, “How long are you girls gonna be gone?” He looks down at me, pulling me closer, like I could even get closer.

“About a week, baby—we talked about this.”

And by talked, I mean I was talking while he was kissing all over me because he missed me so much.

“Mr. Smoke, sir,” Tracey says, grinning, “can she pretty please come with us on our trip? I promise I’ll take good care of her—I swear!”

She’s literally begging on camera.

He chuckles at her antics, then sighs and looks back at me.

“You can go. But don’t make me fuck someone up. You know I’ll come find you and bring you home myself.”

I nod happily. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

I place my hand on his cheek and pull his jaw toward mine so I can peck him on the lips.

“Alright, well—I’ll see you tomorrow, girl. Good night,” Tracey says before hanging up.

A/N: I might make this into a series. idk I just love a good sugar daddy fantasy. Tell me what you think. See you next time.

[passionxwrites]

Whatever it takes

Pairing-ModernGangAU-Elijah*Smoke*Moore x Black reader

Summary-Smoke accidentally pocket dial his wife while out doing wrong

A/N- I’ve been putting this off for like days I’ve been super tired and not really feeling the writing/I was gonna make the shaderoom post but I need to find a picture

It started with a pocket call.

Not a bullet. Not a knife. Not a raid.

Just his damn phone — unlocked, deep in his jacket while he was leaned up too close to some girl at that bar on the South Side. She was laughing, whispering something into his ear, and Smoke? He wasn’t pushing her away.

[1 missed call from baby]

He froze

Then another call came

He ignored it, moving the women aside, he stood up, leaving the club, seeing the paparazzi.

“It started with a pocket call (Call, call, call)”

“Smartphones, dumb shit”

And now, as he stood in the dimly lit hallway of their high-rise penthouse, phone still buzzing in his hand with notifications from social media, his brother, and some messy post he’d been tagged in, Smoke’s heart hammered louder than any gunfight he’d ever been in. The words from the other end echoed in his head like a curse.

“Hello? Smoke? What the fuck is this?” He replayed the words in his head as he answered the phone while driving back to their penthouse.

He knew she had seen the post 

“Hello? Trey?”

“Oh, oh, oh, oh… She picks up the phone / In my head, I know I’m wrong.”

He paces outside the penthouse door like a man who knows he’s already lost but still shows up to fight. Inside, she’s probably packing. Or breaking shit. Or crying. Maybe all three.

Smoke ain’t scared of death. Ain’t scared of cops or feds or even the streets turning on him.

But losing her?

That’s a different kind of lost.

“I’m pacing back and forth / ‘Cause I know that I’ve been caught / Trying to think of the perfect words”

He opens the door carefully, because he knows he now have to face her.

“Baby.”

She doesn’t look at him. Her back is turned, bags half-packed, a shattered glass on the kitchen floor glinting like a warning.

He can see the Shadroom's post on her phone, a picture of him and the girl

Her on his lap 

Him smirking 

His hand on her waist 

Her looking smug

“I heard everything, Smoke.”

Her voice is ice, steady — but that’s how he knows she’s on the edge. Rage doesn’t shake. Silence does.

“So I can come to her and lie right to her face / I don’t know what I’m gonna say / But I know that I’m gonna say / Whatever it takes”

He steps forward, arms open like they’ll fix what’s already snapped between them.

“Listen… it wasn’t what it sounded like.”

She turns, and her eyes, usually so full of love for him, are hollow.

“Then what was it? A joke? Some gang bullshit? You're out here running an empire, but you can’t even keep your vows straight.”

“I’m here at home waiting on you while you out here playing in bitches face.”

His throat goes dry. Smoke, the man who’s taken down armed enemies, silenced traitors, stared judges in the eye without blinking, has no words for her.

So he lies. The same lie he used all the time, the same two words he’ll never mean

“I’ll change.”

“I could say it was a joke, but who am I kidding? She ain’t slow”

“Only way to make it right / Is if I come to her and lie right to her face”

Because that’s what the song said, right? “Whatever it takes.” hell, he’ll  even beg, get on his knees, praying she won't leave him 

“It was nothin’. Just some girl talkin’ slick. I ain’t touched her. I didn’t even want to be there. Someone called me out, and I got dragged into it. You know how this life is.”

He’s pleading now. Voice low, eyes locked on hers. Desperation disguised as sincerity.

“I messed up. I shoulda have walked away. I know I did wrong. But I didn’t mean it. Not like that.”

“I’ma run to her and lie right to her face / I don’t know what I’m gonna say / But I know that I’m gonna say / Whatever it takes”

She walks to the counter, picks up her phone, and plays the recording again. That stupid, accidental call. Laughter. Him telling another woman the same things he told her. Smoke’s voice — relaxed, playful, too familiar.

“That’s you, Smoke. Not drunk-you. Not ‘caught up’ you. That’s you being real. With her. Same shit you told me.”

He wants to tell her it meant nothing. That she’s the only one who knows the man behind the name. That he’d burn the world for her.

But he knows she won’t buy it. Because the truth had already hit her ears raw.

And still, he fights.

“Whatever it takes, baby. I’ll fix this. You want out? I’ll leave the streets. I’ll shut it down. No more runs. No more heat. No more blood. Just us. I swear.”

Oh, gonna tell you /Whatever it takes/Whatever it takes /Whatever it takes/Whatever it takes (Takes)/Whatever it takes

She stares.

Smoke never begged a day in his life. Not when he got shot. Not when Stack got locked up. Not when enemies knock’.

But he’s begging now.

“Please.”

Her hands tremble. Bag still unzipped. Eyes still wet.

She’s at the edge — half in the past where they were ride or die, half in the future where she walks away for good.

“You don’t get it, Smoke. I don’t want you to say whatever it takes. I wanted you to mean it before I had to find out like this.”

“Time is not on our side / ‘Cause she’s waving goodbye goodbye”

“So this is goodbye?”

She nodded, took off the ring, placed it in his hand, and said something about a divorce—but he wasn’t listening.

And with that, she walks out.

The door doesn’t slam. It clicks shut, quiet, final.

Smoke stands in the middle of the room, alone, surrounded by everything he built, but suddenly nothing that matters.

His phone buzzes again. Not her.

Just business.

He doesn’t answer.

This ain’t a war he can win with bullets.

This is the one that might kill him.

He looked at his phone. 

Stack had called twice.

Sammie sent one text: “you fucked up”

“Smartphones, dumb shit / Oh, no, ooh-oh-oh / Oh, man I got to think of something / I’m about to lose it all”

[passionxwrites]

Summary: Elias lost her once in 1992. In 2025, her eyes find him again—through someone new. But some love stories never die… they just wait.

000:

Mississippi Delta– 1932

Elias laid there in a back room of the juke, shirt torn, blood soaking the front. His hands trembled—not from pain, but from the weight of what she’d just done.

He’d broken free from the hold his twin, Elijah, had him in before reuniting with Mary and the others. He just needed his brother and his wife, Annie, and their little cousin, Sammie. He needed them to feel the joy and excitement.

But then it all fell apart. The Juke Joint had turned into a massacre. Blood, death and destruction all from a powerful hem.

“I gave you life,” Mary whispered behind him, her voice soft as poison. “You were a selfish man.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he said, jaw clenched.

“But you let me.” Her heels tapped once against the pinewood floor. “On that floor. In that back room.” She smirked. “You came for me, Stack.” The flirtatiousness in her voice wrapped around his body.

He turned around. Her face was beautiful but cold. Pale curls down to her collarbone. Her eyes gleamed in the poor lighting.

“That don’t mean I wanted this.” He was coming to his senses. Smoke was gone.

She smiled bitterly. “But now you’ll never leave me. Not again.”

Elias took a step back. “Mary…”

“You think I didn’t feel it?” Her voice cracked—just once. “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at all of them? All those colored girls in the Juke?”

“That wasn’t—”

“They wasn’t me!” Mary screamed like thunder rattling through.

“I’ve given you everything,” she said, stepping closer, eyes glowing now, inhuman and hungry. “Power. Life. Eternity.”

“I don’t want eternity, Mary. Not if it means being yours.”

Her face twisted. “Then you’ll have it alone.”

She raised her hand. Blood dripped from her wrist, and she spoke in the old tongue, the one her mother taught her before she died under a pale sky.

Elias fell to his knees, choking, as the room grew darker—colder.

“From this night forward,” Mary intoned, “you will walk this earth never knowing peace. You will remember every face you love, and every one you lose.”

Blood spilled down his chin. His gums ached. His heart beat once—then slowed.

“I curse you, Stack. You will hunger, but never be filled. You will love, but never be loved back. And every woman you desire will feel my shadow on her soul.”

The final word hit the air like a storm breaking. The candlelight blew out, one by one.

Mary knelt beside him, cupping his face.

“I made you, Stack,” she whispered. “And I’ll unmake anyone who tries to take you from me.”

She kissed him, slow and coldly, and when she pulled back, her lips were red with his blood.

He screamed into the darkness as the curse settled in his bones—burning, binding, eternal.

From then own, Elias vowed to be alone. He hated Mary. She bound him to her. She was selfish, envious and entitled. Qualities he never saw from her growing up until that night.

@destinio1 @chaneajoyyy @reci1996 @jackierose902109 @blackisy2k @bxrbie1 @thickemadame @honeytoffee @twistedcharismaaa @wakandamama @soufcakmistress @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @fd-writes @thehomierobbstark @dameshaemonique @lovelymari4 @raysunshine78 @l-auteuse @artsninspo @ghostfacekill-monger @tastingmellow @eye-raq @bakarilennox @theogbadbitch @tastingmellow @erikismybitch

[passionxwrites]

Every time I hear that shark song I think of Cymone. My girl was just minding her business and pulled two niggas. The biggest shark!