venusincleo

[venusincleo]

Let Me In

MDNI // Explicit // Spy AU// warnings: explicit descriptions of sex and violence // angst, fluff, smut, friends who were kinda sorta almost lovers but not really to enemies ( reverse burn?), slow burn, murder mystery, thriller, Dead Dove, and more // masterlist //

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch.3

[venusincleo]

Michiko Malandro + her many looks

[venusincleo]

i am what i am. a constant yearner and victim for the lightskin demons. 😭

[venusincleo]

[venusincleo]

[venusincleo]

“why do you still use tumblr?”

listen— i have to keep track of my hyper fixations somehow

[venusincleo]

#aaliyah

[venusincleo]

i wonder what Stack is like during sex. Rougher, deeper, meaner. The kind of man who doesn’t ask... just takes. (18+, MINORS DNI) Masterlist Here Discord link Here

he’s got your wrists pinned above your head with one hand, the other gripping your ass. his voice is a growl right up against your ear, hot breath coating your skin.

“you knew what you were doin’, wearin’ that little dress,” he mutters, hips slamming into you so hard the headboard slams the wall. “wanted me riled up, huh? well, now you got it.”

you can barely breathe. each thrust is painful, almost punishing. you arch, moan, claw at the sheets.

“stack—”

“say it right,” he bites down on your shoulder. “say my name like you need it.”

“stack,” you gasp, broken. “fuck, Stack, please.”

He pulls your leg higher around his waist, fucking deeper. your back bows. pleasure coils low in your belly, threatening to snap. his thumb drags over your clit in tight, rough circles, and it’s almost too much.

“i said please,” you whimper.

“and I said I ain’t done.” his eyes are sharp, hungry, eating you alive as he watches your fucked out body beneath him. “you’re gonna take every fuckin’ drop I give you, girl. every inch. every damn time.”

you don’t know where you end and he begins. there’s sweat, teeth, breath, bruises blooming on your hips. he flips you over like it’s nothing, hand on your spine, pressing you down.

“look at you,” he mutters behind you. “back arched like you lovin' this shit.”

and when he finally lets go, when he grabs your hips and slams in so hard your breath gets knocked out, you cum with a cry that echoes in the dim room, raw and wrecked.

he groans, low and deep, spilling into you like he’s been holding it back for years. his weight drops against your back, chest heaving.

a beat passes. Then:

“don’t go thinkin’ this was just tonight,” he says into your neck, lips brushing your skin. “next time, I’m takin’ my time with you. gonna make you beg for it slow.”

[venusincleo]

[venusincleo]

𝖮𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗇

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀－𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖻𝖿𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗑 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

⚠︎︎ 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌－explicit smut, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie, weed use, fingering, choking (light), rough then tender, praise kink, age gap, daddy kink, possessive behavior, pet names,

𝖠／𝖭－𝗂 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 “𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝗈,”𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾 out. A𝗅𝗌𝗈, 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌mut, 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾. A𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿or😉

𝖵𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗈

You swore it was just a pickup.

Quick text from Smoke:

“Pull up. Got some shit for you. Strong. Like me.”

Always so full of himself.

You threw on something quick—black shorts that barely covered anything and a white ribbed tank you weren’t wearing a bra under. Not to impress him. Just because it was hot out. That’s what you told yourself.

It was close to midnight when you pulled into the back lot of the old mechanic shop he ran his business out of. The lot was mostly empty, except for one car tucked in the far corner—a black Dodge Charger Hellcat with dark tint, chrome rims catching the moonlight.

You walked up slow, your slides hitting the pavement softly, heart thudding just a little too fast for a “casual” visit.

Driver’s window slid down.

Smoke looked at you from the shadows, leaning back in the seat like he hadn’t a care in the world. Low eyes, chain resting on his chest, blunt between his fingers.

When you walked up to Smoke’s car, he already had your blunt lit and seat reclined, like he’d been waiting for you all night. And maybe he had. That look in his eyes when you opened the passenger door said it all.

Low. Dark. Hungry.

“‘Bout time,” he muttered. “I was startin’ to think you ain’t want me no more.”

You smirked. “I came for the weed, old man. Not you.”

That gold-tooth grin of his flashed. “Mmhm. That why your nipples pokin’ through your lil’ shirt like that?”

You rolled your eyes—but still tugged the door open and climbed in.

Inside, it smelled like weed and leather, and cologne that cost more than your rent.

He passed you the blunt, and you took a long pull. The hit was smooth, but strong. Your lungs burned, head floating almost immediately.

“Shit,” you coughed, handing it back. “You weren’t lying.”

“‘Course I wasn’t.” He looked you over again, this time slower. “Now lemme see what else you came for.”

you passed him back the blunt. He took a long drag, settled back into the seat, and stared out the windshield.

You told yourself you weren’t gonna let it happen again. Not in the car. Not when you knew he could make you come just by talking.

But then his hand slid onto your thigh.

Not rushed. Just resting there. Warm and heavy like it belonged.

“You gone sit over there and act cute all night?” he murmured.

You turned in your seat, one leg folding up under you as you faced him, the leather creaking slightly under your movement. You reached over, hand sliding slow up his thigh.

“You always talkin’ like you got somethin’ to prove.”

Smoke didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. Just raised an eyebrow.

“I do got somethin’ to prove. And you touchin’ on it.”

You didn’t respond. Just slid your hand over his. Guided it higher. Past your bare thigh, up the curve of your hip, and right beneath the hem of your tiny shorts.

No panties.

You felt him tense, then exhale deep through his nose.

“Lil’ nasty,” he said, voice low. “You came outside like that?”

You turned your head, voice syrup-sweet. “You told me to come quick.”

The second you said it, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss—hard, wet, deep enough to make you dizzy. He kissed like he owned you. Tongue licking into your mouth, hand gripping your ass, pulling you closer until you were straddling him in the front seat.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips. “I missed this pussy.”

You settled on his lap, the denim of his jeans rough against the inside of your thighs. You could feel him—already thick, already hard.

His hand slid between your legs again, fingers teasing you open. He groaned when he felt how wet you already were.

“Damn. She always ready for me, huh?”

He chuckled low in his throat.

Your eyes fluttered shut when his middle finger pushed inside you, slow and thick. He curled it just right, like he knew your body. Like it was muscle memory.

“Keep takin’ that shit,” he said, watching you grind into his hand. “Look at you, fuckin’ yourself on my fingers like a good girl.”

You whimpered, hips rolling faster.

“Shh,” he hushed you. “I got you.”

His voice. His voice made your body obey. Made you fall apart for him in that seat with just his hand buried inside you and his teeth grazing your throat. You clenched around his fingers, back arching as you came fast and hard.

“Mm. Look at you. You was missin’ me.”

You grind your hips against him, slow and deliberate. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

You did.

Your mouth crashed into his, and it wasn’t soft. It was teeth, and heat, and him grabbing your ass with both hands, squeezing so tight you moaned into his mouth. His tongue slid past your lips, deep and messy, while your hips rolled against him.

When he broke the kiss, his voice was rough.

“Climb on, mama. Ride me like you mean it.”

You blinked, dazed. “Right here?”

He grabbed your jaw, made you look at him.

“You come to me damn near naked at midnight, sittin’ on my dick in the back of a dark-ass lot, and you got the nerve to be shy now?”

Your pussy clenched, and he felt it. Smirked. That knowing, cocky grin that made you wanna slap him and let him ruin your life.

“Come on,” he said again. “I wanna watch you while you fuck me.”

You didn’t hesitate this time. You were on your knees, braced one hand on his chest, the other on the seat. You watched as he unzipped his pants, the heavy sound of his belt loosening making your stomach flip.

He pulled your panties to the side, ran two fingers down your slick folds, and groaned.

“Damn, baby… You drippin’. You need it that bad?”

“Smoke—please—”

He didn’t tease.

He pushed inside you in one deep stroke, and your head dropped forward with a loud moan. He was thick, stretching you open so slow it nearly hurt—but you loved it.

“So deep—” you moaned.

“I know. You takin’ it, though. You always do.”

He didn’t move at first. Just sat there, deep inside you, palm on your lower back, watching your pussy pulse around him.

“You feel that?” he whispered. “That’s mine. Every fuckin’ inch.”

“Fuck.” His hands gripped your hips hard. “Pussy still perfect. Grippin’ me like it missed me.”

You tried to respond, but all you could do was ride him. The car rocked with you, windows fogging as your thighs clapped against his. You reached one hand back to brace on his knee, trying to take all of him.

“That’s it, mama,” he groaned. “Take all this dick. You built for it.”

He leaned forward, palm sliding up your back, around your neck, fingers curling lightly at your throat.

“Who’s this pussy belong to?”

“You,” you gasped.

He tugged your head back against his shoulder, slowing his thrusts to grind deep. “Say it again.”

“You, Smoke—fuck, it’s yours—”

That earned you a slap to the ass, then another. You cried out, and he kissed your neck between spanks.

You were shaking. High, cock-drunk, toes curled, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes as he reached down and rubbed your clit in rough little circles.

Your body started to tremble.

“There she go,” he cooed. “Go ‘head, make a mess. Cream on this dick.”

“You gone let daddy come in this pretty pussy?”

“Yes—yes, Smoke, please—”

“Beg for it.”

“Please,” you cried. “Please fill me up—I want it—need it—”

He groaned. His pace turned mean, messy, punishing. You came again without warning, clenching around him, and he didn’t last long after that—burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a growl against your shoulder.

The car went still. His forehead pressed to your back. His hand rested heavy on your hip.

The car was silent except for the ticking of the engine and the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath.

Smoke leaned back, hands still on your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles on your skin.

“…Damn,” he muttered. “That wasn’t what I planned.”

You were still face in his shoulder, giggling softly.

“You always say that.”

He pulled you back gently into his lap, kissed your shoulder. “Only ‘cause you got a way of throwin’ me off.”

“Uh huh.” You shifted, a little whimper leaving your mouth as he slid out of you.

He grabbed a hoodie from the back seat, putting it on you. Then lit another blunt, passed it to you with a look so soft it made your chest ache.

“You hungry?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Good. Let’s go get you fed before I take you to the house and fuck you right.”

@cremeful

@enchanthings

[venusincleo]

ִ ࣪𖤐 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ִ ࣪𖤐

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ➤ Elijah “Smoke” Moore

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ➤ on your birthday, Elijah “Smoke” Moore gives you more than gifts — he gives you all of him. after months of a slow, tender relationship, tonight’s the night you finally give yourself to him for the first time.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ➤ oh my goodness, first post on here and it’s about Sinners? am i too late?? also i’ve made one with Stack, SAME IDEA! so i’ll post it as well. enjoy!

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ➤ 7.4k

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ➤ sexual content, virginity loss, submission, intense dominance, degradation (light, experimental), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dumbification, choking kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, multiple rounds, oral sex (reader receiving), missionary, backshots, body worship, aftercare, and modern au. 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓! 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

your birthday always felt quiet. not lonely — just… still. like the world knew how to slow down just for you. the air had that weightless hum to it, a softness only june could give, and for the first time in a long time, you weren’t spending it alone.

this year, you had him.

elijah moore.

the one people called “smoke” — not just ‘cause of how he moved but ‘cause of what followed after. heat. tension. silence that filled the space like fog.

but not with you.

with you, he made noise in his own way. not loud. not boastful. but he stayed close. remembered things you forgot you told him. touched you like he meant it. and that meant something, especially from a man who spoke more with his eyes than his mouth.

you’d been with him for some months now — the kind of months that don’t pass like time, but like warmth. like heat lingering in the air after he kissed you, or the way his thumb would press into your lower back when y’all walked into a room. nothing over the top. just enough to feel it, deep.

you never said it out loud, but he already knew — you’d never been with anyone before. not all the way.

you weren’t scared of him. no, not even a little. it was everyone else you didn’t trust. the boys who only wanted what you wouldn’t give. but smoke… he waited. he watched. and when he looked at you, you could feel it — the way he undressed you without ever reaching for your clothes.

he never pushed. never asked.

until tonight.

you didn’t know what to expect when you walked through the door of his apartment.

you’d just come back from dinner. quiet place, low lighting, some jazz humming from the walls like background static. he let you talk most of the night, just watched you sip slow from your glass, his hand draped behind you on the booth like he didn’t wanna crowd you but still needed to be close.

you didn’t notice how tightly you’d held his hand until he pulled you inside with him.

the apartment smelled like something clean and faintly musky — like the cologne he pressed behind his throat and the fresh laundry you helped him fold last sunday, all mixed together.

“sit,” he said low, nodding toward the couch.

you blinked. “you makin’ me nervous.”

a smirk curved on the side of his mouth, slow, like smoke curling off a match. “good.”

you sat. not ‘cause he told you to — ‘cause the way he said it felt final. warm. like a promise.

he stepped away, back into the bedroom for a second.

you glanced around, trying to pretend like your heart wasn’t racing.

you could still taste the sweetness of the strawberry glaze from dessert on your tongue. still felt the weight of his eyes from across the booth, his thumb brushing soft against your thigh under the table.

and then he returned.

a black box in one hand. a single rose in the other.

he placed the rose gently in your lap, then kneeled down in front of you, opening the box with careful fingers.

inside:

a necklace — gold, dainty, thin, like it belonged to the skin more than around it. a small charm hung from it: the letter E.

you looked down at him, breath caught in your throat.

he didn’t smile, but his eyes softened.

“you mine,” he said, fingers brushing your collarbone as he lifted the chain. “this just make it official.”

you nodded before you could even think.

he leaned in, fast but gentle, lips brushing the corner of your mouth like he was still asking permission. your chest tightened. your thighs pressed together on instinct.

“that ain’t even the real gift,” he murmured, voice dragging low against your ear.

you swallowed hard. “then what is?”

his lips ghosted your cheek, a single breath before he stood again.

“come find out.”

your breath hitched the second you stepped into the bedroom.

candles, flickering low on the nightstand and dresser. sheets pulled back neat.

music hummin’ from the speaker in the corner, slow and sensual, bass steady like a heartbeat.

you turned to him, heart in your throat.

“elijah…”

he just looked at you, slow and sure. didn’t say a word. but his hands reached for your waist, and you let him touch you.

his fingers ghosted over the hem of your dress, dragging slow, eyes locked on yours like he was waiting for you to run.

but you didn’t.

you lifted your arms.

he pulled it over your head.

stood still for a second, breathing you in like something sacred.

you shivered. not ‘cause you were cold — ‘cause of how warm his hands were when they touched your skin.

he leaned down and kissed your shoulder.

then your collarbone.

then the curve of your neck.

he didn’t rush. he just let it build.

slow. soft.

like he was unwrapping a gift, not undressing a body.

you didn’t speak — couldn’t.

not when elijah was lookin’ at you like that.

your body was bare, barely lit by the warm flicker of candlelight. he hadn’t said much, but he didn’t need to. his silence was weighty. heavy with all the things you were finally ready for, and all the things he already knew.

his hand slid behind your neck. thick fingers curling gentle under your hair. your skin prickled under his touch, chest rising slow as he leaned in.

“you sure?”

his voice was low. like gravel. like smoke rising up from heat that never quite burned out.

you nodded. “i’m sure.”

he didn’t move at first. just stared at you — his thumb pressed to your jaw, lips barely apart like he was breathin’ in every inch of you.

“aight,” he said under his breath, kissing you soft. “then i’ma take my time.”

his mouth dropped to your neck again, this time lingering. tongue warm, breath hotter. he kissed slow, deep, like each part of you deserved to be remembered.

you whimpered the first time his lips grazed the top of your chest.

“sound like that again,” he muttered into your skin, one hand cupping your breast with just enough pressure to make your back arch. “i like that.”

your fingers tightened in the sheets behind you.

his tongue slid over your nipple, slow, then sucked.

soft at first. then harder.

your thighs clamped together.

“open ‘em,” he said without looking up. voice low. calm.

you hesitated. he tapped your thigh, firm. “spread them legs for me, mama.”

you obeyed.

the air kissed your inner thighs. you could already feel how wet you were — too much, too fast. it embarrassed you. you turned your head, biting your bottom lip to keep from whining out loud.

he noticed.

“why you hidin’ from me?” he said softly, lips dragging down your stomach. “nah, look at me.”

you blinked, slowly dragging your gaze down your body — and there he was.

on his knees. shoulders wide between your thighs. both hands caressing the outsides of them like he was anchoring you there. like he wasn’t lettin’ you go.

he kissed the inside of your leg.

then again.

and again.

your breathing shook. your hips rolled forward on instinct — desperate, wanting, already aching for him to stop teasing and start doing.

“mm.” he chuckled against your skin. “you greedy already, baby? barely even touched you.”

“‘lijah, please,” you whispered. you weren’t even sure what you were asking for.

but he knew.

his breath hit your center, then his tongue. one single, slow lick, long and deep, like he was already drunk off you.

your hips jerked.

he gripped your thighs tighter.

“keep still,” he said thickly. “take what i give you.”

then he dove in.

you didn’t know a man could eat like that.

like he ain’t have nothin’ else to do.

like this was his only job tonight.

like he was studyin’ you through his tongue.

his lips sucked hard on your clit, tongue flickin’ fast, then slow, then fast again — working you open like he already knew your rhythm. your moans poured out your mouth in soft, high cries, your fingers fisting the sheets.

“that’s it,” he said in between, voice rough. “give it to me. lemme hear you.”

you whined. back arching. thighs trembling against his shoulders.

then his fingers pushed inside. two of them. thick. slow at first. curling up till you screamed his name.

“‘lijah—fuck—!”

“that’s it,” he groaned, voice like thunder, deep in your belly. “ain’t even fuck you yet and you already singin’ for me. this pussy so damn tight…”

your head dropped back. he kept goin’. tongue, fingers, rhythm like he was tryna ruin you soft before he ever even got inside.

“feel good?”

you nodded fast. too fast.

“use your words, baby.”

“feels s-so good,” you stammered, legs shaking. “feels—i can’t—”

“yes you can,” he growled. “you takin’ it. don’t stop now.”

your orgasm hit like a wave — hard, sweet, fast — and he didn’t stop until you were gasping, shaking, hips grinding against his face like your body couldn’t get enough.

he licked you through it. slow, like a man proud of what he’d done.

and then he stood.

his lips and chin glistened in the candlelight. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, watching you with those same dark, steady eyes.

“now,” he muttered, voice deep with heat, “you ready for your real birthday present?”

you barely noticed when he started undressing.

you were too high off your first orgasm, too dazed by the way he licked his fingers clean like your taste meant something holy.

but then you looked up.

and there he was. shirt off. belt undone. pants loose around his hips.

he was thick. all over. chest cut deep with muscle, abs shadowed in the low candlelight. and when he pulled his briefs down, your breath caught in your throat.

he was big.

not just long — thick. curved just a little. veiny, heavy, already hard for you. your stomach flipped. you swallowed slow.

he caught your face. stared at you hard, just for a second.

“don’t get scared now,” he said low, walking toward the bed.

you didn’t even blink. “i’m not.”

he smiled once. slow.

“good.”

he climbed onto the bed, knee between your thighs, body over yours. his dick was resting heavy against your stomach now, warm and firm, pressed between you both like a quiet threat.

his hand slid up your side. slow. possessive.

“‘lijah…”

“yeah, baby?”

your hands reached for his shoulders. “want you to go slow.”

he leaned down. kissed your lips once, then again, and again — soft, then deeper.

“i got you.”

he meant it.

you watched as he reached down, lined himself up.

you felt the tip slide through your folds first — slow, wet, easy — then nudge right up against your entrance.

your breath stopped.

his eyes locked on yours. “keep your eyes on me.”

you nodded.

then he pushed.

the first inch burned. thick, tight, stretching you more than you’d ever imagined. your fingers dug into his biceps. you whimpered loud — your body trying to tense, but he stopped. held still.

“breathe, baby,” he whispered, brushing your cheek. “you takin’ me real good.”

you nodded again. deep breaths. legs open wider, even through the ache.

he kissed your jaw. your shoulder. your breast.

then moved again.

slow. deep. inch by inch.

you felt every part of him — the way his width stretched your walls, the curve pressing against that spot deep inside.

you cried out soft, and he kissed you through it.

“that’s it,” he muttered. “fuck… you feel that? how tight this pussy grippin’ me already? goddamn.”

you nodded frantically. didn’t even realize you were tearing up until he kissed the corner of your eye.

“still with me?”

“y-yeah,” you whispered. “feels so full—so big.”

“you takin’ it, though,” he growled. “takin’ me like you mine. that what you want?”

“yes,” you moaned, nearly sobbing. “i’m yours, ‘lijah.”

his hips snapped deeper. not fast — hard. just once. enough to make your mouth drop open and your back arch.

“say that shit again.”

“i’m yours.”

again.

“i’m yours, i’m—fuck, i can’t think—”

he gripped your jaw. firm. made you look at him.

“good,” he said low. “don’t think. just feel me.”

you couldn’t stop moaning. couldn’t stop clinging to him, crying out soft each time he pulled back and pushed in slow, like he was tryna bury himself deeper every time.

“doin’ so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, dragging his dick all the way out, then in again. “pussy tryna pull me in like it missed me.”

you were shaking now. legs wide, thighs trembling. you couldn’t speak — just whimpering, whining.

“damn,” he chuckled dark, voice hoarse, “got you dumb already? barely even fucked you yet.”

you nodded fast. “so good—feels too good—”

“you sound so pretty like this.”

his hand slid to your throat. didn’t squeeze — just laid there, pressure soft but firm.

your eyes rolled back. your hips bucked up.

“you like that?” he growled. “like when i hold you down like this?”

“y-yeah,” you gasped. “makes me feel… feel owned.”

he leaned in, tongue dragging slow up your neck.

“you are,” he breathed, hips grinding deep. “all mine, baby.”

you came again like that.

deep strokes. his hand at your throat. eyes locked. his name pouring from your lips like a prayer you couldn’t stop chanting.

he didn’t stop moving. not even after you came.

he fucked you through it. let you shake, let you cry, let you babble nothin’ but his name while your body milked him hard.

his rhythm got rougher then. deeper. heavier.

clap clap clap

his hips slammed against your thighs now. your legs spread wider, his chest brushing yours.

“look at you,” he hissed. “a whole fuckin’ mess. i ain’t even done with you yet.”

“‘lijah—i can’t—”

“yes the fuck you can,” he growled. “take all this dick. you wanted it.”

“wanted it,” you sobbed. “wanted you—just like this.”

he kissed your mouth hard. bit your bottom lip.

then his hips started to stutter.

“gon’ cum in you,” he warned. “gon’ fill this pretty pussy up real nice.”

you moaned out loud. “do it. please—please cum inside me.”

his voice broke.

“fuck—”

and then he came.

hips buried deep. groan low and heavy in your ear. his body shaking over yours, sweat dripping from his neck to your collarbone.

he held himself there. breath on your cheek. cock still twitching deep inside, warm cum filling you slow.

but he didn’t move.

he pulled back just enough to look at you — your face flushed, lips parted, body limp and used and overwhelmed.

then he smirked.

“we not done.”

your eyes widened. your legs twitched.

and you whispered:

“…again?”

he chuckled, slow and dark. kissed your throat.

“it’s your birthday.”

you didn’t even feel him slip out at first.

your whole body was floating — boneless, twitching, your skin hot and glazed with sweat. but then you felt the emptiness, the slow drip of cum leaking down the inside of your thigh, and your body clenched instinctively like it already missed him.

you blinked up at the ceiling, chest rising shallow. your voice was gone, but your throat was still raw from moaning.

he leaned over you again. brushed your hair out of your face. kissed the side of your head.

“turn over,” he murmured.

your lashes fluttered. “wha…?”

“you heard me.”

his voice wasn’t mean. it wasn’t cold either. it was low. final.

you rolled to your stomach slowly, shaky arms pulling you up on all fours.

your legs barely worked, trembling from the first round. but then you felt him behind you — his hands at your waist, firm and wide, pulling your ass back toward him like he’d never left.

he leaned down. lips at your spine.

“you look good like this.”

a kiss.

“all fucked out.”

another kiss.

“still open for me.”

you whimpered into the sheets, face burning.

his hands dragged up your back, slow.

then one came down — smack — a sharp slap to your ass, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make you jolt.

“you still wet,” he said, voice darker now. “still drippin’ f’me.”

his dick slid up between your folds again — still hard, still thick.

he teased you with it, back and forth, tip just barely pressing at your entrance.

“you gon’ let me back in?”

you nodded fast. “yes—yes, please, ‘lijah—”

“nah.” he grabbed your throat from behind, just enough pressure to ground you. “say it right.”

“want your dick again,” you whined. “want it back inside—please, i need it.”

he pushed in slow, but deep.

you choked on your gasp. it felt even bigger like this — from behind, with your legs spread wide, your back arched, your pussy already sore and wet and raw from the first round.

he bottomed out with a growl, his grip tight on your hips.

“fuck… this pussy was made for me.”

you moaned loud.

his hips started moving — slow at first. each stroke long, dragging every inch of him against your walls.

smack

smack

smack

you could barely stay up. your arms gave out, chest sinking into the mattress, ass still high while he gripped your waist and pounded you from behind like he was tryna see what you were made of.

you whimpered with every thrust.

“look at you,” he muttered, voice all heat. “back here takin’ this dick like a lil fuckin’ toy. that what you want? be my toy?”

you nodded, drooling against the sheets. “yes—yes, i wanna be yours, use me, please—”

“mmhmm. already knew you was nasty.”

his hand wrapped in your hair and pulled your head back, your spine arching sharper, your mouth wide with a ragged cry.

“this how you wanted me to fuck you on your birthday, huh?” he growled, breath hot at your ear. “deep. rough.”

“mhmmmmm,” you whimpered. “can’t think—feels too good—”

he laughed once, dark and low.

“don’t need you to think. just take it.”

and you did.

you let him fuck you deeper. rougher. no rhythm now — just noise and skin and heat. your moans turned to gasps. his name spilled out again and again, your whole body shaking from overstimulation, your pussy clenching hard around him.

you came again, harder than before.

your body seized. legs shaking. tears pricking your eyes from how good it felt. how deep it went.

and he didn’t stop.

he chased his own release, his hips pounding you into the bed until he grunted through his teeth, held you tight, and came deep again — slow, thick warmth spilling inside you while he held you still and fucked it deeper.

it took you minutes to come back to yourself.

you collapsed to your side when he finally pulled out, your body limp and soaked in sweat and cum.

you felt him disappear for a moment. then return — a warm cloth between your thighs, his hand sliding slow across your lower back.

“you good?”

you nodded weakly. “i can’t feel my legs.”

he laughed softly. real soft.

“that mean i did it right.”

you blinked up at him through half-lidded eyes. his hand was rubbing your thigh, slow. grounding.

you whispered, barely audible—“you didn’t hold back.”

he kissed your cheek. “ain’t supposed to.”

you smiled.

his fingers traced the necklace he gave you, still resting warm on your collarbone.

then he said, softer this time:

“happy birthday, mama.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐕𝐘𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀.

[venusincleo]

𝖠nniversary

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀－𝖤𝗅𝗂𝗃𝖺𝗁*𝖲𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾*𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗑 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

“You ain’t got a clue what you do to me, do you, baby?”

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒－𝖤𝗅𝗂𝗃𝖺𝗁 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 Anniversary 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌

⚠︎︎ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖬𝖣𝖭𝖨－𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋／𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗒𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖼，𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾，𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅（𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁）𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌，𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝖾𝗑，𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆．

𝖠／𝖭－𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇g so it might be weird

“Why the beach?” you asked quietly, watching him steer the car with one hand, the other resting on your thigh. “You don’t even like sand.”

“You wanted to go,” he muttered. “And you said you ain’t never seen the ocean, I wanted to make you happy.”

Your heart caught right behind your ribs. You didn’t say anything else. You just slid your hand into his, kissed his knuckles, and leaned against his shoulder the rest of the drive.

You weren’t used to vacations. Or luxury. Or quiet that didn’t come with the hum of insects and tractor engines. But here you were: barefoot in a linen robe, hair salty from the sea, the man you loved looking out at the ocean like he was keeping watch for anyone who dared try and steal you.

You’d never had a man take you anywhere.

Smoke never said a lot, but the way he moved told you everything.

The way he put his hand on your back when you walked down the beach barefoot.

The way he poured your drink before his own.

The way he let you press soft kisses to his jaw, even when he was scowling.

The beach house was quiet and clean — all soft linens and sea breeze, wide windows that opened straight to the ocean. The first night, he ordered food and let you sit on his lap on the back deck while the waves crashed, a glass of wine in your hand and your bare legs draped over his.

You giggled when he bit your neck. “It’s our anniversary. Your supposed to be sweet.”

He kissed your collarbone, teeth grazing. “I am bein’ sweet. You still got clothes on, don’t you?”

That night, it was just the two of you in the dim bedroom, the doors open so you could hear the waves crash and feel the breeze roll across your skin.

He watched you from the bed, leaned back against the headboard, blunt burning slow between his fingers. Gold chain resting on his chest, sweatpants slung low, dark eyes dragging over your body.

“You gonna stand there and look pretty all night?” he said, voice low and scratchy.

You smiled shyly, fingertips tugging at the tie of your robe. “I was waitin’ for you to tell me to come here.”

Smoke flicked the blunt into the tray. “C’mere, country.”

You climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap, your hands smoothing over his chest. Smoke’s hands settled on your hips like they were built for it — firm and familiar.

“That little mouth of yours,” he muttered, running his thumb across your bottom lip, “gets you in trouble.”

“I know,” you said sweetly. “But you like it.”

He grunted, fingers sliding under your robe to squeeze your thighs.

“You know what today is?” he asked, voice rough near your ear.

“Two years,” you whispered. “Since you ruined me.”

He smirked. “You was already ruined when I met you. Just didn’t know what to do with it.”

Smoke’s mouth dropped to your neck, tongue and teeth dragging over that soft spot just below your jaw. You moaned and rocked your hips over the thick bulge pressing against your core.

“Take this off,” he muttered, tugging at your robe. “Wanna see all that sweetness.”

You shrugged it off your shoulders, letting it fall behind you. His hands went straight to your tits — rough palms cupping, thumbs teasing your nipples until you were squirming in his lap.

“You already wet?” he muttered. “Ain’t even touched you yet.”

“I missed you,” you whispered.

He smirked. “You been on my dick all week.”

You leaned forward, kissed his neck, then dropped lower, kissing down his chest, over his abs, tugging his sweatpants down with both hands. His dick sprang free, thick and heavy, veins pulsing, tip glistening with precome.

You wrapped your hand around him and licked slowly up.

“Look at me,” he growled. “I want them pretty eyes on me while you suck it.”

You obeyed, tongue swirling around the head before taking him deeper. He groaned, hand in your hair, hips rolling up gently as you bobbed your head.

“You suck dick like it’s the only thing you been taught,” he murmured. “Good little girl.”

You moaned around him, and he hissed, pulling you off with a pop.

“Get up here.”

He flipped you under him in one move — hands dragging your thighs apart, lips pressing kisses up your inner thighs.

“Need to taste you. Don’t care how many times I done had it.”

His tongue slid between your folds, slow and deep, fingers spreading you wide while he licked like he owned your soul. You cried out, back arching off the bed as he sucked your clit, then slipped two fingers inside you, curling just right.

He licked like he had time. Like he didn’t mind your hips trembling or your hands tugging at his curls. One arm locked across your belly to keep you still. His beard scratched, but the heat of his tongue made you forget everything else.

“Smoke—please—”

“Please, what, baby?”

“Need you inside me.”

He kissed your thigh, eyes dark. “Yeah, you do.”

He crawled up your body, lined himself up, and eased in — slow and deep, watching your face as he stretched you open.

“Still tight,” he grunted, teeth gritted. “Still mine.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging to him as he started to thrust. Not fast. Not rough — yet. Just deep, deliberate strokes that hit every place inside you that made you cry out for more.

One of his hands came up to wrap around your throat, just enough pressure to make your eyes flutter.

“That’s it,” he muttered. “Open up for me. You feel that? That’s me.”

You nodded, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes from how full you felt.

“Talk back now,” he growled. “Come on, baby. Tell me who fuckin’ owns you.”

“You, Smoke,” you gasped. “Always you—”

He picked up the pace, his thrusts growing harder, your thighs trembling.

“Say it again.”

“You its yours.”

Your orgasm hit you like a wave — loud, wet, messy. He didn’t stop. Just kept going, hand between your legs, overstimulating you on purpose.

“Can’t—” you cried.

“You can,” he growled. “Gimme another one.”

You came again with a scream, and that’s when he let go, filling you deep with a groan and his mouth against your shoulder.

He flipped you onto your stomach, dragged your hips up, and lined himself up from behind.

“Still sweet,” he muttered, pushing inside you slow. “Still mine.”

The stretch was thick, dizzying, and perfect. You whined into the pillow as he filled you up, slow and deep at first, just enough to feel it in your spine.

“Two years,” he murmured in your ear, one hand around your throat again, the other between your legs, working your clit. “You still the best thing I ever let close.”

“You ever let somebody touch you like this before me?” he murmured, thumb brushing your slick slit.

“N-no.”

You cried out his name as he fucked you through your third orgasm, deep strokes, praise tucked into every growl.

“You love me, baby?” he asked, right before he spilled inside you.

You nodded, trembling. “So much.”

Smoke smiled — a dark, smug curl of his lips. “I know. Always been my good girl.”

He pulled you into his chest, body heavy and warm, breath tangled in your hair.

“I know,” he said. “I love you, too.”

Afterward, he cleaned you up like you were made of glass.

You lay against his chest, worn out and glowing. The sea crashed outside like applause. His fingers lazily traced circles on your hip.

“Happy anniversary,” you whispered, eyes heavy.

Smoke kissed your forehead. “Best two years of my fuckin’ life.”

[venusincleo]

Never Had One

Elias ‘Stack’ x black!Reader

Synopsis: imagine the reaction when you told stack a man has never made you cum.

You’d been spending time with Elias for a minute now. He wasn’t the type to rush or put on a show. And when it came to you, it was clear he wanted more than just to get skin-deep.

Sex wasn’t something he shoved in your face. He wanted to build trust, show you he was serious. Took his time, always asking what felt good, paying attention like it was the most important thing in the world. Because to him, it was.

But that night, you said something that changed the whole vibe.

“I’ve never had an orgasm,” you said, voice quiet, like confessing a secret.

Elias froze mid-sentence, blunt halfway to his lips. He put it down on the table. Nothing made him put his blunt down, nothing.

“You lyin’, ma,” he said flat, eyes narrowing but not in anger. More like disbelief.

You blinked. The blunt was still on the table. Elias never got riled up like this. He rarely let words spill out so fast or so raw.

“I don’t know, Elias ,” you said, twisting your hands in your lap, “it’s just hard for me.”

“You bullshitting, you for real?” His voice had shifted soft almost tender.

You started giggling, but he didn’t get it. What was funny about dudes not putting your needs first? You were serious.

“I’m just saying, my spot is hard to find anyway. I can’t be mad if they can’t find it,” you whispered.

The stupidest shit he ever heard. Because he knew exactly where that spot was. And he knew what it took to get you there.

Elias stood up, moved to you with that slow, deliberate calm he always had. “You ain’t gotta make no excuses for nobody,” he said low. “You just ain’t been with the right nigga.”

Then he showed you.

⸻

Elias knelt between your thighs and looked down at you like you were something sacred. His fingers trailed slowly along your inner thigh, and you gasped when they grazed that aching, neglected spot.

“Mmm,” he hummed under his breath. “Ain’t hard to find. Not at all.”

He didn’t rush. Just explored. Made you squirm with the softest flicks of his tongue, the curl of his fingers, watching very breath you took.

And when your body started to tremble, thighs closing in around his head, he didn’t stop. Kept going, steady, locked in, one arm sliding up to hold you in place.

“Don’t run,” he murmured. “You said it was hard, right? Let me show you.”

You cried out, hips arching, something hot unraveling in your gut and then it hit. Overwhelming, and real.

You came with his name spilling from your lips in broken, desperate moans. Shaking. Barely breathing. Tears stung the corners of your eyes from the release, from how much it felt like.

Elias moved up, kissed your jaw, your cheek, your lips. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, voice thick, low. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with you. You just needed someone who gave a damn.”

Your voice was hoarse. “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

He smiled then. A rare, slow smile that made you dizzy all over again.

“I did. That’s why I been takin’ my time.” He brushed his thumb along your bottom lip. “But now?”

He leaned close to your ear.

“I ain’t holdin’ back no more.”

[venusincleo]

elijah smoke moore headcanons

彡 second post on here lmk if you like 😛 ugh this man is so fine idk i could write an essay about it he’s so SEXY I wanna rip my hair out okay lemme hush 😋

༯ he’s very very quiet in public. He’s always scanning, always watching.

༯ he’s a very very touchy man. When you sit in his lap, he’s rubbing up on your thigh underneath your sundress. When yall are in bed, he spoons you.

“shhh, lemme hold you.”

༯ he never talks to you crazy. Even when he’s annoyed and irritated.

༯ he loves you, he do and he tries to be understanding when you have an attitude but he nips that shit in the bud with SPEED.

“fix that tone, baby.”

“What I tell you bout’ talkin’ to me like that?”

༯ he loves kissing you.

༯ every time he looks at you he’s looking at you like he’s YEARNING.

༯ when he goes out to get something, he always thinking of you.

“I’m fixin’ to buy you these pearls, saw them at the market a night ago.”

“I know what my woman like.”

༯ he gets nightmares from the war and you always guide him through it.

༯ he’s so vocal when you’re intimate and he loves when you kiss all up on his neck.

༯ he’s an ass man, he’s always palming your ass.

༯ he never ever afraid to tell you he loves you.

“Can’t stand t’be without ya.”

༯ he always comes up behind you and sways when your cooking with music on.

༯ whenever you say his name like his actual name you notice the way he locks eyes with you, his walls completely fall.

༯ he loves when you stroke his scalp.

“swear that feels so good, girl.”

༯ bathing with him is so intimate.

would genuinely give him the time of his life. That’s it. That’s all.

[venusincleo]

My neck, my back, lick my pussy and my crack 😫

[venusincleo]

Still thinking about this interview with Ryan Coogler where he talked about how it is difficult to pinpoint from who or where the oldest blues songs came from because they were created in a time and a place where "music was not to be bought and sold, it was a way of life." No one was much concerned with ownership, because it did not matter and was not the point. It was art. Made by people, for people. To paraphrase Coogler, it was a system of healing turned into property, created by people who'd been turned into property, on land turned into property. We are so saturated in a system obsessed with ownership of every damn thing that it actually blows my mind when I step back and remember that this Obsession To Own is not actually an inherent part of being human. It was a system designed by the greediest, most selfish, bigoted humans among us to value control and power over connection and community. It is what fosters the desperate, often violent, drive to own lest you become owned, and the absurd idea that you are only worth what you can own. Gonna go stare at a wall about it some more, I think.

[venusincleo]

Last names for your OC

✦ Anderson ✦ Abbot ✦ Alden ✦ Aldridge ✦ Ames ✦ Anderson ✦ Archer ✦ Ashby ✦ Barrett ✦ Baxter ✦ Bellamy ✦ Bennett ✦ Blackwell ✦ Boone ✦ Bradford ✦ Broderick ✦ Caldwell ✦ Camden ✦ Carlisle ✦ Cavanaugh ✦ Chase ✦ Clarke ✦ Collins ✦ Conrad ✦ Creighton ✦ Dalton ✦ Davis ✦ Delacroix ✦ Delaney ✦ Devlin ✦ Draven ✦ Duvall ✦ Easton ✦ Eastwood ✦ Eaton ✦ Ellington ✦ Emberton ✦ Emerson ✦ Ennis ✦ Evans ✦ Fairchild ✦ Fenwick ✦ Ferris ✦ Fielding ✦ Fontaine ✦ Foster ✦ Gallagher ✦ Gallant ✦ Gannon ✦ Garland ✦ Garrison ✦ Garvey ✦ Grayson ✦ Greer ✦ Griffin ✦ Hadley ✦ Hawkins ✦ Henley vHollis vHuntley ✦ Huxley ✦ Inglewood ✦ Ingram ✦ Irvine ✦ Irving vIsaacs ✦ Isley ✦ Iverson ✦ Jamison✦ Jasper vJennings✦ Jensen✦ Johnson ✦ Jonas ✦ Jordan ✦ Keane ✦ Keaton vKeller ✦ Kennedy vKensington✦ Kerrigan ✦ Kingsley ✦ Knight ✦ Knox ✦ Landon ✦ Langdon ✦ Langley ✦ Larkin ✦ Lawson ✦ Lennox ✦ Lively ✦ Lockhart ✦ Lovell ✦ Maddison ✦ Maddock ✦ Maddox ✦ Malley ✦ Marlowe ✦ Marsden ✦ Mercer ✦ Mitchell ✦ Monroe ✦ Nash ✦ Nelson ✦ Nevers ✦ Northwood ✦Novak ✦Oakes ✦Oakley ✦ Oakman ✦Owens ✦O’Brien ✦O’Malley ✦ Palmer ✦ Paxon ✦ Paxton ✦ Penn ✦ Peterson ✦ Prescott ✦ Pryor ✦ Quarles ✦ Quimby ✦ Quinn ✦ Quinton ✦ Radcliffe ✦ Ramsey ✦ Redford ✦ Reynolds ✦ Rowe ✦ Serrano ✦ Sheffield ✦ Sinclair ✦ Sorensen ✦ St. James ✦ Sterling ✦ Stone ✦ Sullivan ✦ Talbot ✦ Tennyson ✦ Thayer ✦ Thompson ✦ Thorne ✦ Travis ✦ Ulver ✦ Ulysses ✦ Underwood ✦ Usher ✦ Vaden ✦ Vance ✦ Vanek ✦ Vaughn ✦ Vega ✦ Viera ✦ Wallace ✦ Weston ✦ Whitaker ✦ Whitmore ✦ Wilder ✦ Winslow ✦ Wynn ✦ Xavier ✦ Yardley ✦ Yardman ✦ Yates ✦ Yeats ✦ York ✦ Zane ✦ Zeller ✦ Zimmerman