My Request list : Hello, I am a passionate black writer, and if you ever have a request, you can DM me or press the button up top. Make sure to have plot idea when you send it, (any person or any character from a show/movie with whatever genre, smut, fluff, angst)
A/N: I saw a bunch of edits of Tyriq at the Met Gala on Tiktok, and wrote this down.
Summary: It was the night of the Met Gala with your boyfriend, Tyriq Withers. Your manager attempts to discuss business while you, and your man decide to spend some time alone.
Warnings: fingers in mouth, exhibitionist kink, fingering(fem receiving), oral(m), dirty talk, slight voyeurism, consensual for both parties, kissing, unprotected sex, drunk sex, cussing, choking, mirror sex, fingering, fluff, cute moments.
You stood between Keith Powers your boyfriend, Tyriq Withers, and on the carpet at the Met Gala, in front of the camera and your brown eyes locked on the interviewer and asked you, and your castmates Keith and Tyriq about the movie, you fake smiled and nodded.
It’s been hours and hours, of interviews, talk shows, photoshoots, and talking with your manager Leonaa nd bodyguard Felix to make sure you're good.
But this was exhausting mentally and physically, you knew that this part came with the entertainment industry but the fame part was difficult, deranged and delusional, stalker fans, toxic gossip blogs ready to get something on you.
The worst part was no privacy when it came to certain things.
“Y/N, how does it feel to be in an award-nominated and award-winning film with Keith, and Tyriq?” The interviewer asked, using a bright tone.
“It feels great to be in this film beside these two, showing the right ways to tackle certain topics that are spoken about enough, you feel that my character Nia is conflicted and chooses the one who’s been yearning for her all along, it’s reminded us that she’s human,” You spoke with confidence, smiling again. Your cheeks ached in pain.
You’ve been acting for seven years, your film credits have expanded significantly, and you’ve won Emmys and an Oscar by the age of 31. Hobnobbing with your favorite stars like Angela Bassett, who inspired your dream.
You were picky when it came to roles in Hollywood, the reboots, remakes, sequels and constant shady, predatory directors, asshole producers, and stuck and entitled managers.
But you finally your manager Leona, who was the best in the business. You preferred working with a black women, you felt safe, seen, and protected properly by her. You had to do so much on your own but it took a toll on you.
You've made it, you were proud of yourself. You had a black-owned production, management team.
You starred in a black romance movie titled More To Love, which revolves around two close friends employed at a black-owned law firm. In the story, they handle legal cases, and things take a turn when your ex, portrayed by Keith, arrives to propose. Your character named Nia never forgot how much her ex hurt you from heartbreak and betrayal, so your character pretend to be with your colleague Tyriq.
It was very similar to your story when you began dating in high school, Keith played the role so well and it made you not speak to him, you explained to him that the story was personal to you. He understood completely, shared the same story as you and he apologized.
As the interviewer continued to throw questions your way and Tyriq’s, you could feel the weight of the promotional duties pressing down on you. Your cheeks ached from the forced smiles, and you stole a glance at him, who flashed you a reassuring grin. It was a momentary distraction from the barrage of queries.
You spotted Beyoncé beside her daughter, Blue Ivy, and Jay-Z. The overlapping voice of paparazzi chiming in, after another.
Soon enough, Tyriq held your hand reassuringly, and walked with you, beside Keith, and his fiancée Ryan Destiny. Smiling pretty for the cameras, flashing from left to right.
You wore a black knee-length dress that exposed your back paired with black heels, French tip nails with gold rings, and your natural curls pulled up in a cute bun. Your plump lips are adorned with lip gloss, and Your dark brown skin beautifully shines.
The cameras wrapped up once Beyoncé left with her husband, and daughter, you felt a rush of relief. You stepped out of the studio and outside to the lane that led to the red carpet, the rush of the night almost dissipating.
“Great work, we’re getting to the finish line,” your manager spoke up, nodding.
“Yeah, we did,” You sighed until the both of them noticed that you looked exhausted. Burnout approaching.
“You okay baby?” He asked concerned, his brows raising.
You shake your head, “No, sweetie. I’m tired as hell,”
Tyriq rubbed your back in the soothing circle, the feel of his hand and the cold chill from the gold metal of his ring sent a shiver down your spine.
“It’s going to be alright, once we’re done with this Met Gala, we’ll be heading home after that okay?” Tyriq reassured you softly, kissing your cheek.
You nodded, biting down on your lip as you gazed upon the man, he smelled good with the scent of cinnamon and citrus. Your hand rested on the back of his neck, your thumb swiped over. He groaned lowly.
Regrettably, the gossip and dating scene have been lacking recently; you vowed to avoid dating celebrities because of all the negative press surrounding them, as they tend to be deceitful and dishonest.
Tyriq had his eyes on the moment he met you, and he wasn't like the rest, he was funny, kind, patient and charismatic. 
The better you got to know him, the closer you became, transforming the typical friends-to-lovers storyline from the film you acted in into something genuine in real life. Who would have thought?
The four of you stepped toward the capret laid out for you, a fence in front of you to block paparazzi from stepping too close, Ryan, Keith, and Tyriq stayed between you, he held your hand.
Relax, you said in the depths of your mind. It almost suffocating from amount of things happening all at once. Your cheeks on your face ached again, your mom did tell you that if you kept that face, it would freeze up like that.

Was she just messing with you? Yeah, she definitely was. You resumed walking close with your man along the velvet red carpet as you peeped at the waiting limo at the end of the carpet rope. So close.
Until you were stopped by someone in the paparazzi, fuck, you were so close. They annoyed the hell of you A LOT. The fact they get paid a huge amount of money for this should be a crime.
"Show us some love!" a photographer shouted out with enthusiasm.
Next thing you know, the couple strode past the two of you before winking at you while his hand snaked from your back to around your waist, wrapped around you like a warm blanket on a snow day.
"I've got you, don't worry," Tyriq said in a reassuring tone, smiling at you as you mirrored the warm action.
The warmth of Kelvin's body against yours caused your heart to flutter, his touch made you feel safe, protected from everything and everyone out there, especially in Hollywood, another destructive, soul-sucking world that you heard of, seen in documentaries, scary Lifetime movies, tv shows, the news.
Tyriq’s head turned towards you, leaning in close before you did, his plump lips brushed against yours, pressing his onto yours gently. You kissed him back passionately after pulling away from each other.
“We’ve got a new star couple!” someone shouted in glee, you couldn't help but mentally roll your eyes. Here we go.
That was the big announcement from the two of you and to the world.
People had a lot to say, and celebrity relationships won’t last long, in and out like a drive-thru. Cheating, sex scandals, some weird cult shit, or some connection to the Illuminati.
"I'll see you lovebirds later," Keith spoke up, waving goodbye to you.
You waved back in response, smiling at Keith with a head tilt. He was so sweet, you focused on the cameras flashing before winking at the camera.
At this point, when is it going to be over? It had to be.
You walked through the strobing lights of the cameras, moving from side to side in those same painful heels. With a forced smile for the photographers and your boyfriend by your side, you were nearing the limousine.
"Time to leave, beautiful," he whispered in your ear, gently guiding you toward the sleek, black limo.
"Thank God," you whispered back, turning to face him, walking toward the door as Tyriq opened the door.
You ducked your head and settled into the plush suede backseat of the limo with its tinted deep windows, which was spacious and the color of ink black for the seats and the car floor below your heels were soft as a cloud, the color of macaroon cream.
Tyriq ducked his head and settled onto the suede backseat beside you, grinning at you like he was ready to eat you out in the backseat as he shut the door behind himself. "Glad that's over and done with, now I can focus on you," he said, his tone low and seductive.
You chuckled lightly, biting down your lips, clenching your legs before opening the door to the refrigerator and grabbing a champmage botte, "l need a drink first before I deal with your nasty ass," you shot back using a sinful smirk.
The limo had buttons atop your heads, for the white florescent lights including a small refrigerator for drinks, water bottles, champagne, and wine.
He grabbed the glasses and passed one to you, before kissing your lips again, the taste of strawberry lips gloss adorned his lips, your thumb carefully rubbed it off. He groaned at your touch, damn he was in love with you.
“You are nasty, Tyriq,” You chuckled lightly.
“I'm nasty?!” Tyriq exclaimed dramatically, his hand over his chest.
"Yeah, you heard me right. All those kisses on the red carpet, I can't help but feel like you're trying to stake your claim," You laughed, pouring the champagne into the glasses.
He raised an eyebrow, leaning closer, his voice dropping an octave."And what if I am? You're mine. And I'm yours, You know that, right?"
You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you took a sip of the bubbly drink. "l do know that, but let's not forget that the limo driver is watching us," you whispered back.
“The window is closed, though. The driver is a woman.”
"Agreed, I'm not sure about how long this drive so how about we make the most of it? Hm?" Tyriq asked with a soft hum, shrugging.
The two of you finished your drinks, feeling the buzz of the drink flow through you, "Yeah, how about we try an exhibitionist kink that I want to do?" You suggested to him.
The sleek limo began to take a gentle turn to the right, going through the bright towering lights and passing through other cars, paying them no mind, as if you two were the only ones in the world.
He nodded, it was something that he never thought he'd do but with you, he wanted to try it. Just thought of it turned him on. An idea popped up in his head.
You grinned at the man before kissing down his neck, "You're bad, huh?" you said to him.
His fingers trailing over your arm and shivered from his touch, with your hand snaked below his pants before stopping, “Can I suck your dick? Just a taste Ty?” you whispered softly in his ear.
His breath hitched from your voice, and he nodded at you. “Y/N..yes you can, don't make me beg,” he sighed blissfully with a smirk. He was in for a treat from you, he didn't even know it yet.
And with his consent, you unzipped his zipped and gently slid down his boxers and pants a little bit, kissing his tip before wrapping your mouth around his thick, long brown dick, his arms rested on the armrest of the limo.
His tongue gliding over his lips, he groaned loudly once you bopped your head onto his dick, your tongue tracing shapes on the veins, he knew you looked so gorgeous doing this, “Fuck…so beautiful, suck it harder..” Tyriq panted heavily, his head fell back onto the soft cushion.
“Mmm..so good,” you mumbled lowly, your hand stroking him with your fingers rolling between his balls, he grunted once he locked eyes with the female limo driver.
The soft slurping and squelching sounds filled the car, the warmth of your mouth spurred him one.
“That mouth of yours..is perfect, I couldn't resist you, seeing you walk down that carpet…fuck!” Tyriq shouted out, pushing his hips upwards into your mouth.
Your palm stroked Tyriq’s dick with your cheeks hollowing around him as spit dripped from the corner of her lips, spit stuck to your hand and tricked down to his balls, "Fuck..Y/N.." he groaned deeply, his hands gripping the armrest tightly, You moaned around him, sending vibrations through his body.
“It’s turning me on when you suck this dick…that feels so fucking good,” Tyriq moaned again, hearing your muffled moans in response, filling that exhibitionist side of you once the driver’s eyes flickered back to your man.
You bopped your head faster and your cheeks hollowed harder, wetting his dick and seats up, covered with drops of precum and spit. Staining his pants, your dress. Good thing both of you wore black, “Just like that! Shit!”
His balls tightened in response around your fingers, his mouth parted as you twisted your hand around his dick, squeezing it lightly. “Shit!….Shit!…Y/N, please!” he begged for you, he gasped as if he lost oxygen in his lungs.
Finally, he reached it, his hot cum spilling into your mouth, you quickly swallowed every drop while you lifted you head, “It was good wasn't it?” You bragged with confidence, Smiling and using a warm towel from the edge to clean your mouth, you tossed it into the trash. You put his dick back into his boxers, he zipped them up, and pulled up his pants.
Before you could reply, his hand settled on the back of your neck, drawing you in. He kissed you passionately and intensely, and as you returned the kiss, you let out a moan. When you finally pulled away, a strand of saliva connected your lips and his.
“That was amazing, baby, my turn,” he sang playfully, giving you an tender kiss as you moaned, your pussy from his touch.
More friction, desperately.
You leaned in, “Touch me, please,” you whimpered softly, giving him consent to touch you.
His fingers grazed the edge of your dress as Tyriq planted kisses on your collarbone, marking your deep brown skin with hickeys. “Tyriq…” you moaned again, His fingers slipped beneath your panties, sensing your wetness through the fabric, humming softly in response against your shoulder.
“I couldn't leave my girl like this, so wet just from sucking my dick off?” Tyriq asked in a deep tone, his voice deepening. His finger rubbing your clit. “Y-yeah, I-it was big, couldn't fit it all..” you groaned before moving your hips. No teasing was a rule of yours, but Tyriq’s hand slid through your panties, pinching your clit.
He pushed your panties to the side, and rolled them down and off your ankles. You parted your legs wide for him, while gazing into his eyes, “You’re so fucking nasty, girl,” he groaned softly, his legs parted a bit.
His fingers parted your folds and slipped inside with ease, making you moan wildly, causing Kendra, the female driver to look back at him but she paid attention to the road still. “Shhh, I got you, my girl’s been stressed out?” he said, his lips nibbling on your bottom lip, the taste of wine and lip gloss.
“Yes..fuck!” you cried out, rolling your hips to that torturous pace, your arms wrapped around his shoulders tight, he must've told the driver to take the long way, your essence poured onto the seats, as he gently pulled the strings of your dress, your breasts poked out. He licked his lips.
“Beautiful titties,” he mumbled, his hands cupping your breasts softly, his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking them, pinching your nipples roughly before sucking the right softly. “Mhhm..” you hummed but moaned, you’d almost forgotten that you were still in the limo, you definitely needed this. Your hand rested on the back of his nape, feeling that comforting warmth.
In need of his touch as if it was religious, you hoped to your ancestors and God above that Kendra kept driving, eventually you would get home later, you need more.
His fingers thrust in and out of you, he watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, he pressed your back to his clothed chest. “I love it when you make a fucking mess on my fingers, I can't wait to feel it on my dick,” He teased, curling up his fingers. He was so nasty, so passionate. His dick hardens in his pants.
“I..i..I love this shit with you, so much, get deeper for me, baby,” You babbled softly, panting while moving your hips a bit. Your hands gripped the armrest, Tyriq was still behind you, keeping you close so you wouldn't hurt yourself.
“Oh shit! Shit! Tyriq!” you moaned suddenly once his fingers slid in deeper, your wet walls clenched tightly around his digits. Your wetness covered him completely and stained his pants but didn’t care.
The limo resumed driving straight again, while the little bumps on the roads made every sensation. Your pussy sucked his fingers right back in and clenched tight, “That’s right, you feel it? That pussy sucked me back in..fuck,” Tyriq groaned raspily, biting down his lip, You gasped, feeling the rhythm of his fingers and the warmth of his body pressed against yours.
The thrill of being in a moving vehicle, with the driver just a few feet away, was pulling you close to the edge. You were so close, but you weren't ready to go home; he pressed his bulge against you and moved his hips, “Don't see what you do to me?” Tyriq groaned as he felt your ass against him, giving your backside a playful smack that made you moan, clearly turned on by you.
His thumb flattened on your clit and circled, your mind blurred from pleasure and saw thousands of stars behind your closed eyelids, you were moaning loudly as his fingers went faster. “That pussy knows me so well,” Tyriq teased with a grin.
“You’re so good to me, just a little more baby,” You begged, your voice softened a bit, his fingers hit that sweet spot. Moving in a ‘come here’ motion over and over. “I got you,”
You nodded, feeling the tension build within you, the pressure mounting as he resumed to thrust his fingers, in and out, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot. “You drive me crazy, I'm gone fuck you so good when we get in that house,”
After his fingers turned sporadic and curled again, you felt yourself clench around his fingers. Waves crashing over you as you cried out his name, “Tyriq!”
He slowed his movements, letting you ride out the waves of your orgasm, feeling you pulse around him. The rush of it left you breathless, and you leaned back against his chest, panting as the aftershocks coursed through you.
“Damn, you’re beautiful when you cum,” he murmured, planting soft kisses along your shoulder and lips, sending little sparks of electricity through your body.
You turned to face him, still catching your breath. “You’re not too bad yourself,” you teased, a playful smile creeping onto your lips.
Tyriq chuckled, the sound low and rich, filling the quiet space of the limo. “I love you,” he said, he pulled out his fingers, watching you tie up the strings in the back of your dress.
“I love you too,” you agreed, stealing a quick kiss from him, feeling the warmth radiating between you.
The car slowed down, you could see the lights of your house glowing in the distance. “Looks like we're almost home,” you said, a hint of reluctance in your voice.
“That was fun, I liked that,” Tyriq replied, grinning like it was his birthday and he enjoyed his present. His eyes are still on you.
You nodded, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, “Yeah, I liked it too,” you said, that shy side coming out.
The limo finally came to a stop, and the driver turned to look at you both. “We’ve arrived,” she announced with a knowing smile, as if she understood the connection that had just blossomed between you two.
“Thanks, Kendra,” you said, feeling a bit shy as you realized the driver had witnessed more.
Tyriq opened the door, helping you out as you stepped onto the pavement. The cool night air hit your skin, and you shivered slightly, but Tyriq wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close again. He closed the door and let Kendra that he pay her immediately, apologizing for the mess on the seats.
“Let’s get inside,” he said, his tone both playful and protective.
Once inside, you closed the door behind yourself. Tyriq brought you into the bedroom, removing his suit as you peeled off your dress.
He quickly kissed you, your lips meeting. Your legs spread, he buried his dick inside you. His hands on your hips.
“My beautiful girl,” he groaned softly.
And with that, he made love to you all night long, distrubing your neighbors who obviously sent a nose complaint but you knew Tyriq would talk care of it. Your moans echoed through the walls, he kissed your shoulder and said, “Fuck ‘em, you can scream as loud as you want to,”
I'm still thinking about I Love Boosters, like where do I even start with how delightful it is?
I love the way unions are framed as love for your community, and how community is the moral of the story but also showing the dangers of the media preying on people who want that sense of community. I love the friendship between the two main leads and how their personalities realistically clash but how they love each other at the end of the day and are willing to go to hell and back for each other.
I love the examination on how everyone loses in the system, from the people making the clothes for dirt cheap in other countries to the shipment drivers who don't get jobs because the company would rather invest in scifi technology then pay and wait to the store employees who see a fraction of the overall cut to the creative visionaries whose work goes taken and uncredited because of a figurehead and even to the assistant who is putting up with it all for the chance at being a boss.
I see the blatant commentary with making the main antagonist a wealthy white woman and a minor antagonist a white gay man who uses "progressive" language to talk down to his employees of color (or the figurehead of the union eventually being a light skinned woman of color). I love this too, especially paired with the backstory made for the wealthy white woman with implications of her being an underage victim of a white man but still doing massive amounts of harm as soon as she is the one in power.
There is probably a lot more I could be talking about but I don't want to spoil too much for those who want to see the movie plus I know there are things which flew over my head.
It is just a sheer delight with a lot of heart and a really good script with so much blink and you miss it commentary. I hope to own it on DVD.
Summary: Before Elijah Moore. Before Titian Bloodsworth. Before the war between dynasties. There was Mansa Diallo—the first man to truly see Aaliyah. As an MIT student struggling beneath the weight of Henri Baptiste’s shadow, Aaliyah finds herself drawn into the orbit of a charismatic cartel heir who teaches her lessons no classroom ever could: how to command a room, how to embrace power, and how to wear a crown without apology. But when tragedy steals the future they planned together, Aaliyah buries both her grief and the woman Mansa believed she could become. Years later, standing before the Bloodsworth family for the first time, she discovers that some lessons never die.
Warnings: Major character death, first love tragedy, grief and loss, emotional trauma, murder, references to organized crime/cartel families, themes of power and leadership, heartbreak, emotional angst, and future family confrontation.
The world didn't just hold its breath. It fucking stopped.
Rain lashed against the Moore estate in hard, silver sheets, turning the manicured lawns into a dark, churning sea. The air, thick with the scent of ozone and wet earth, felt heavy enough to drown in. Aaliyah stood beside Elijah, his hand a warm, steady presence at her back. In front of them, framed by the open doorway, stood a family of ghosts, their faces illuminated by the cold, distant glow of headlights. Titian Bloodsworth’s eyes, a mirror of her own, held her captive, a silent, desperate plea that vibrated through the charged air.
And suddenly—she wasn't in Florida anymore.
She was in Cambridge. Seven years earlier. The world was white and silent, blanketed by a thick, heavy snow that muffled the sounds of the city, turning MIT's iconic dome into a soft, ethereal dream. Aaliyah was twenty, a ghost in her own life, a brilliant mind trapped in a gilded cage of Henri's making. She was top of her class, a terrifying force of nature in lecture halls and seminar rooms, her intellect a weapon she wielded with a precision that was both beautiful and heartbreaking. She had friends, a small, carefully curated circle of people who respected her, who admired her, but none of them really knew her. They saw the genius, the poise, the quiet, unshakeable confidence. They didn't see the loneliness, a cold, hollow ache that settled in her bones, a constant reminder of the family she didn't have, the love she'd never known.
She was carrying Henri's damage like a second skin, a heavy, suffocating cloak that she couldn't seem to shed. She was a survivor, but she was also a prisoner, trapped in a world of her own making, a world of books and theories and equations that kept the real world, the world of emotions and connections, at a safe, manageable distance.
Then she met him.
Mansa Diallo.
He wasn't a student. He was a force of nature, a quiet, powerful presence that seemed to command the very air around him. He was twenty-two, but he carried himself like a man who had seen a lifetime of war and peace, a man who understood the intricate, brutal dance of power. He was the heir to one of the most powerful criminal organizations in West Africa, but he didn't wear his power like a badge. He wore it like a second skin, a quiet, confident assurance that was both terrifying and mesmerizing. He controlled the Boston gun distribution for his family, a shadowy, dangerous world of backroom deals and whispered threats, a world he navigated with an ease that was both impressive and unsettling.
Unlike Elijah, whose power was a cold, hard, imposing thing, Mansa's power was warm, charismatic, a magnetic pull that drew people in, made them want to follow, made them want to please. He smiled. A lot. A wide, genuine, infectious smile that could disarm the most guarded of men, a smile that was a weapon in its own right. He was dangerous in a way that felt effortless, a king who didn't need a crown to prove his worth.
Their first meeting wasn't some dramatic, fated encounter. It was a Tuesday. A cold, bleak Tuesday in the middle of a brutal Cambridge winter. Aaliyah was in the middle of a strategy competition, a high-stakes, no-holds-barred debate that was less about theory and more about blood sport. She was eviscerating three MBA students, her arguments a razor-sharp, surgical strike that left them stammering and flustered, their faces a mask of bewildered humiliation. She was in her element, a predator in a sea of prey, her mind a sharp, deadly weapon.
Mansa was watching from the back of the room, a silent, observant presence, his gaze a steady, unnerving weight. She felt him before she saw him, a prickle of awareness, a shift in the energy of the room. She ignored him, her focus a laser-like beam, her arguments a relentless, unstoppable force. She won, of course. She always won.
Afterward, as she was gathering her things, a quiet, confident voice cut through the low murmur of the crowd. "You know what your problem is?"
Aaliyah looked up, her annoyance a sharp, cold flash in her eyes. And then she saw him. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his skin a deep, profound black that seemed to absorb the harsh fluorescent light of the lecture hall, holding it only to release it as a subtle, inner glow, like polished obsidian under a moonlit sky. He was dressed in a way that screamed money without shouting it, a deliberate, quiet display of power. An all-white essentials tee, pristine and soft, was tucked into impeccably tailored Balmain jeans, the black denim a stark, dramatic contrast that emphasized the powerful lines of his legs. On his feet were a pair of fire-red Jordan 4 retros, a flash of bold, unapologetic color that was the only hint of the dangerous, vibrant energy thrumming just beneath his calm surface. His hair was cut into a sharp, precise Caesar, the dark line of the fade broken by the clean, geometric curve of a half-moon part, a style that was both classic and militant. His eyes, a deep, soulful chocolate brown, held a flicker of amusement, a knowing glint that made her feel like he could see right through her, right through the carefully constructed facade of the genius, the prodigy, the survivor. And then he smiled, a wide, brilliant flash of white that was so bright it seemed to light up the sterile, academic space around him, carving a deep, charming dimple into his left cheek. It was a disarming, dangerous smile, the kind that made you want to trust him, even when every instinct you had was screaming that you shouldn't.
"I wasn't aware I had one," she said, her voice a cool, clipped dismissal, a clear, unspoken warning.
Mansa laughed, a low, rich, genuine sound that vibrated through the air. He leaned in slightly, his deep chocolate eyes holding hers with an unnerving intensity, a quiet focus that was both thrilling and terrifying. "You're brilliant," he said, his voice a low, smooth rumble, a quiet, admiring confession. "But you wield that brilliance like a ghost. You win these arguments, you dismantle these people, not to prove you're right, but to make yourself so small, so non-threatening, that they forget you're even in the room. You're not trying to win, Aaliyah. You're trying to disappear."
The words hit her with the force of a physical blow, a sharp, painful jab to the gut. Because he was right. He was so fucking right. She hid behind her intelligence, a shield of words and theories and equations that kept the world at bay, that kept her safe, that kept her from being seen, from being hurt, from being vulnerable. She made herself smaller, safer, less threatening, less visible. She was a ghost in her own life, a brilliant, lonely ghost.
Mansa refused to let her stay that way.
He started showing up. At her favorite coffee shop. At the library. At the small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant where she went to escape the suffocating pressure of her studies. He didn't ask for permission. He just appeared, a quiet, confident presence that was both unsettling and strangely comforting. He didn't try to impress her with his intelligence or his connections or his power. He just… talked to her. He asked her questions. He listened to her answers. He saw her.
He started dragging her places, not because he was showing off, but because he was teaching. He took her to private dinners in opulent, backroom restaurants where men in expensive suits whispered secrets over glasses of aged whiskey. He took her to business meetings where she watched him negotiate with a quiet, unshakeable authority that was both terrifying and mesmerizing. He took her to charity galas and political fundraisers, to underground power circles where the fate of nations was decided over cigars and brandy.
One night, after a particularly intense meeting where he had dismantled a rival's argument with a few, carefully chosen words, she asked him, "Why do people listen to you?"
He looked at her, his gaze a steady, unnerving weight, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. "Because my voice doesn't ask. It claims. In my world, a question is a weakness, a crack in the foundation. You don't ask for obedience; you build a throne with your words and dare them to challenge you. They listen because I speak as if the air I breathe is already mine to command."
Another night, as they were walking through the snow-covered streets of Cambridge, the city a silent, ethereal wonderland around them, he said, "A sharp mind is a good tool, Aaliyah, but it's just a tool. A hammer can build a house or smash a skull. Certainty… certainty is the hand that wields it. It's the unwavering belief that the path you walk is the only one that exists. Intelligence can be debated. Certainty cannot. It is the mountain that does not move, even when the storm rages against it."
Another time, as they were watching a group of powerful men fawning over a visiting dignitary, he said, "Look at them. They are smart men, rich men. But they are followers. Because a man who is only smart is a book on a shelf—valuable, but stationary. A man who belongs is a fire in a dark room. He doesn't need to announce his presence. The heat, the light, the very air bending around him… that is the announcement. You don't walk into a room and hope you belong. You enter like the room was built for you, and everyone else is just a guest in your kingdom."
He taught her how to command a room, how to read people, how to use her own intelligence as a weapon, not a shield. He taught her how to be powerful, not just smart. He taught her that she didn't have to hide, that she didn't have to apologize for taking up space, that she didn't have to be less than she was.
"A queen who apologizes for the space she occupies is not a queen at all," he told her one night, his voice a low, serious rumble, a quiet, unshakeable truth. "She is a prisoner who has merely been given a more comfortable cage. Power is not a gift to be returned. It is a throne you build with your own spine. Never shrink to make others feel tall. A lion does not ask the sheep for permission to roar."
Aaliyah absorbed every lesson, every word, every habit, her mind a sponge, soaking it all in, a quiet, desperate thirst for a knowledge she couldn't find in any book, any lecture hall. She didn't realize it then, but he was teaching her how to survive Elijah's future world years before Elijah even existed in her life.
Without realizing it, she was falling in love.
It was a slow burn, a natural, beautiful progression from friendship to something more, something deeper, something that felt both terrifying and exhilarating. Mansa never treated her like she was broken, like she was a project to be fixed. He never treated her like a genius, like a mind to be admired from a distance. He never treated her like a trophy, a beautiful object to be displayed on his arm.
He treated her like an equal.
One night, as they were sitting in his car, the city a blur of lights and shadows outside the windows, she asked him, "What if I don't want power?"
He looked at her, his expression a mixture of sadness and understanding, a quiet, knowing grief that made her heart ache. "Power doesn't care what you want," he said softly, his voice a low, serious rumble. "People like us don't get to be ordinary."
That became one of the defining lines of her life, a quiet, unshakeable truth that she would carry with her long after he was gone.
He was her first love. Her first everything emotionally. Her first real friend. The first man she trusted with her secrets, with her fears, with her fragile, broken heart. The first man she allowed herself to dream with, to imagine a future with. He talked about Africa, about building something bigger, about changing things, about creating a new generation, a different legacy. And for the first time in her life, Aaliyah allowed herself to imagine a future. A real future. Marriage. Children. A home. Love. And Mansa was at the center of all of it, a warm, bright, beautiful sun in the cold, dark landscape of her life.
Then he was gone.
The night he died was a cold, brutal night in the middle of a vicious winter storm. They were at a luxury hotel in Boston, she was out for the holidays, the snow a thick, heavy blanket outside the windows, the city a silent, muffled world of white and gray. They were spending the weekend together, talking, laughing, planning, and dreaming. They were happy. Truly, deeply, incandescently happy.
Around midnight, they got hungry. Mansa volunteered to go get food. "Stay here," he said, his voice a low, warm rumble, a quiet, reassuring smile on his face. "I'll grab food."
She kissed him, a soft, lingering kiss that tasted of promise and possibility. "Hurry," she whispered, her heart a frantic, happy rhythm against her ribs.
He laughed, a low, rich, beautiful sound. "Always."
And then he left.
That was the last time she ever saw him alive.
Hours passed. The storm raged outside, a wild, violent symphony of wind and snow. She called him, her calls going straight to voicemail. She texted him, her messages remaining unread, a stark, terrifying reminder of his absence. A cold, heavy dread settled over her, a sick, gut-wrenching feeling that something was wrong, something was terribly, horribly wrong.
Then there was a knock. A sharp, perfunctory knock at the hotel door.
It was the police.
They were kind, gentle, their faces a mask of sympathetic sorrow. They told her he'd been shot. Five times. An execution. A professional hit. He was dead before the ambulance arrived. Twenty-one years old.
Aaliyah didn't cry immediately. That was the worst part. She just stared, her mind a blank, empty void, a cold, hollow ache that was so profound it was almost a physical thing. The grief came later, a violent, destructive force that tore through her, shattering everything, leaving her broken, bleeding, and utterly, completely alone.
She never learned who ordered it. Never got closure. Never got justice. Only silence. A deafening, suffocating silence that echoed in the empty spaces of her life, a constant, painful reminder of what she had lost, of what she could have had.
She pushed all those memories to the back of her mind, a locked, hidden box of pain and regret that she refused to open, refused to acknowledge. She never thought she'd need them, never thought she'd be anyone's wife but Mansa's. She buried them deep, a secret, sacred grief that she carried with her like a heavy, invisible cloak.
And now, standing next to Elijah, in front of her father and her Bloodsworth family, she felt the panic, the fear, the uncertainty, a cold, heavy dread that threatened to drown her. The rain lashed down, the world holding its breath, and the faces of the family she never knew were a silent, judgmental jury. And then she heard a voice. Not physically. A memory. A whisper from the past, a ghost in the storm.
A lion does not ask the sheep for permission to roar.
The words were a low rumble in her mind, a spark in the suffocating darkness. Her shoulders, which had begun to tense inward, to shrink away from the weight of their stares, stopped their retreat.
Another memory surfaced, clear and sharp as a shard of glass.
You don't walk into a room and hope you belong. You enter like the room was built for you, and everyone else is just a guest in your kingdom.
Aaliyah’s gaze flickered from Titian’s eyes—so like her own—to the imposing figure of Malachi, to the grief-stricken face of Imani. They were in her house. On her land. Standing before her husband.
Another memory, a quiet, steady drumbeat in her soul.
Certainty is the mountain that does not move, even when the storm rages against it.
The storm was here. The wind howled, the rain beat a frantic rhythm against the stone, and the ghosts of her past were standing on her doorstep. But she was the mountain.
One final, powerful truth settled in her bones, a foundation of solid rock beneath her feet.
A queen who apologizes for the space she occupies is not a queen at all. She is a prisoner who has merely been given a more comfortable cage.
She was not a prisoner. She had never been. She had just forgotten how to wear her own crown.
Aaliyah slowly straightened, her shoulders back, her chin lifted, a quiet, unshakeable confidence settling over her like a second skin. For the first time, she didn't look like Henri's daughter, a pale, broken reflection of a man she hated. She didn't look like Titian's daughter, a lost, lonely girl searching for a place to belong. She didn't look like Elijah's wife, a quiet, obedient pawn in a dangerous game.
She looked like herself.
The woman Mansa always saw.
The woman she was always meant to be.
And when she finally spoke to the Bloodsworth family, her voice a low, clear, steady rumble that vibrated through the charged air, every ounce of fear was gone. Because years ago, before Elijah, before Titian, before any of this, a dead king had taught her how to wear a crown.
A/N: I saw a bunch of edits of Tyriq at the Met Gala on Tiktok, and wrote this down.
Summary: It was the night of the Met Gala with your boyfriend, Tyriq Withers. Your manager attempts to discuss business while you, and your man decide to spend some time alone.
Warnings: fingers in mouth, exhibitionist kink, fingering(fem receiving), oral(m), dirty talk, slight voyeurism, consensual for both parties, kissing, unprotected sex, drunk sex, cussing, choking, mirror sex, fingering, fluff, cute moments.
You stood between Keith Powers your boyfriend, Tyriq Withers, and on the carpet at the Met Gala, in front of the camera and your brown eyes locked on the interviewer and asked you, and your castmates Keith and Tyriq about the movie, you fake smiled and nodded.
It’s been hours and hours, of interviews, talk shows, photoshoots, and talking with your manager Leonaa nd bodyguard Felix to make sure you're good.
But this was exhausting mentally and physically, you knew that this part came with the entertainment industry but the fame part was difficult, deranged and delusional, stalker fans, toxic gossip blogs ready to get something on you.
The worst part was no privacy when it came to certain things.
“Y/N, how does it feel to be in an award-nominated and award-winning film with Keith, and Tyriq?” The interviewer asked, using a bright tone.
“It feels great to be in this film beside these two, showing the right ways to tackle certain topics that are spoken about enough, you feel that my character Nia is conflicted and chooses the one who’s been yearning for her all along, it’s reminded us that she’s human,” You spoke with confidence, smiling again. Your cheeks ached in pain.
You’ve been acting for seven years, your film credits have expanded significantly, and you’ve won Emmys and an Oscar by the age of 31. Hobnobbing with your favorite stars like Angela Bassett, who inspired your dream.
You were picky when it came to roles in Hollywood, the reboots, remakes, sequels and constant shady, predatory directors, asshole producers, and stuck and entitled managers.
But you finally your manager Leona, who was the best in the business. You preferred working with a black women, you felt safe, seen, and protected properly by her. You had to do so much on your own but it took a toll on you.
You've made it, you were proud of yourself. You had a black-owned production, management team.
You starred in a black romance movie titled More To Love, which revolves around two close friends employed at a black-owned law firm. In the story, they handle legal cases, and things take a turn when your ex, portrayed by Keith, arrives to propose. Your character named Nia never forgot how much her ex hurt you from heartbreak and betrayal, so your character pretend to be with your colleague Tyriq.
It was very similar to your story when you began dating in high school, Keith played the role so well and it made you not speak to him, you explained to him that the story was personal to you. He understood completely, shared the same story as you and he apologized.
As the interviewer continued to throw questions your way and Tyriq’s, you could feel the weight of the promotional duties pressing down on you. Your cheeks ached from the forced smiles, and you stole a glance at him, who flashed you a reassuring grin. It was a momentary distraction from the barrage of queries.
You spotted Beyoncé beside her daughter, Blue Ivy, and Jay-Z. The overlapping voice of paparazzi chiming in, after another.
Soon enough, Tyriq held your hand reassuringly, and walked with you, beside Keith, and his fiancée Ryan Destiny. Smiling pretty for the cameras, flashing from left to right.
You wore a black knee-length dress that exposed your back paired with black heels, French tip nails with gold rings, and your natural curls pulled up in a cute bun. Your plump lips are adorned with lip gloss, and Your dark brown skin beautifully shines.
The cameras wrapped up once Beyoncé left with her husband, and daughter, you felt a rush of relief. You stepped out of the studio and outside to the lane that led to the red carpet, the rush of the night almost dissipating.
“Great work, we’re getting to the finish line,” your manager spoke up, nodding.
“Yeah, we did,” You sighed until the both of them noticed that you looked exhausted. Burnout approaching.
“You okay baby?” He asked concerned, his brows raising.
You shake your head, “No, sweetie. I’m tired as hell,”
Tyriq rubbed your back in the soothing circle, the feel of his hand and the cold chill from the gold metal of his ring sent a shiver down your spine.
“It’s going to be alright, once we’re done with this Met Gala, we’ll be heading home after that okay?” Tyriq reassured you softly, kissing your cheek.
You nodded, biting down on your lip as you gazed upon the man, he smelled good with the scent of cinnamon and citrus. Your hand rested on the back of his neck, your thumb swiped over. He groaned lowly.
Regrettably, the gossip and dating scene have been lacking recently; you vowed to avoid dating celebrities because of all the negative press surrounding them, as they tend to be deceitful and dishonest.
Tyriq had his eyes on the moment he met you, and he wasn't like the rest, he was funny, kind, patient and charismatic. 
The better you got to know him, the closer you became, transforming the typical friends-to-lovers storyline from the film you acted in into something genuine in real life. Who would have thought?
The four of you stepped toward the capret laid out for you, a fence in front of you to block paparazzi from stepping too close, Ryan, Keith, and Tyriq stayed between you, he held your hand.
Relax, you said in the depths of your mind. It almost suffocating from amount of things happening all at once. Your cheeks on your face ached again, your mom did tell you that if you kept that face, it would freeze up like that.

Was she just messing with you? Yeah, she definitely was. You resumed walking close with your man along the velvet red carpet as you peeped at the waiting limo at the end of the carpet rope. So close.
Until you were stopped by someone in the paparazzi, fuck, you were so close. They annoyed the hell of you A LOT. The fact they get paid a huge amount of money for this should be a crime.
"Show us some love!" a photographer shouted out with enthusiasm.
Next thing you know, the couple strode past the two of you before winking at you while his hand snaked from your back to around your waist, wrapped around you like a warm blanket on a snow day.
"I've got you, don't worry," Tyriq said in a reassuring tone, smiling at you as you mirrored the warm action.
The warmth of Kelvin's body against yours caused your heart to flutter, his touch made you feel safe, protected from everything and everyone out there, especially in Hollywood, another destructive, soul-sucking world that you heard of, seen in documentaries, scary Lifetime movies, tv shows, the news.
Tyriq’s head turned towards you, leaning in close before you did, his plump lips brushed against yours, pressing his onto yours gently. You kissed him back passionately after pulling away from each other.
“We’ve got a new star couple!” someone shouted in glee, you couldn't help but mentally roll your eyes. Here we go.
That was the big announcement from the two of you and to the world.
People had a lot to say, and celebrity relationships won’t last long, in and out like a drive-thru. Cheating, sex scandals, some weird cult shit, or some connection to the Illuminati.
"I'll see you lovebirds later," Keith spoke up, waving goodbye to you.
You waved back in response, smiling at Keith with a head tilt. He was so sweet, you focused on the cameras flashing before winking at the camera.
At this point, when is it going to be over? It had to be.
You walked through the strobing lights of the cameras, moving from side to side in those same painful heels. With a forced smile for the photographers and your boyfriend by your side, you were nearing the limousine.
"Time to leave, beautiful," he whispered in your ear, gently guiding you toward the sleek, black limo.
"Thank God," you whispered back, turning to face him, walking toward the door as Tyriq opened the door.
You ducked your head and settled into the plush suede backseat of the limo with its tinted deep windows, which was spacious and the color of ink black for the seats and the car floor below your heels were soft as a cloud, the color of macaroon cream.
Tyriq ducked his head and settled onto the suede backseat beside you, grinning at you like he was ready to eat you out in the backseat as he shut the door behind himself. "Glad that's over and done with, now I can focus on you," he said, his tone low and seductive.
You chuckled lightly, biting down your lips, clenching your legs before opening the door to the refrigerator and grabbing a champmage botte, "l need a drink first before I deal with your nasty ass," you shot back using a sinful smirk.
The limo had buttons atop your heads, for the white florescent lights including a small refrigerator for drinks, water bottles, champagne, and wine.
He grabbed the glasses and passed one to you, before kissing your lips again, the taste of strawberry lips gloss adorned his lips, your thumb carefully rubbed it off. He groaned at your touch, damn he was in love with you.
“You are nasty, Tyriq,” You chuckled lightly.
“I'm nasty?!” Tyriq exclaimed dramatically, his hand over his chest.
"Yeah, you heard me right. All those kisses on the red carpet, I can't help but feel like you're trying to stake your claim," You laughed, pouring the champagne into the glasses.
He raised an eyebrow, leaning closer, his voice dropping an octave."And what if I am? You're mine. And I'm yours, You know that, right?"
You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you took a sip of the bubbly drink. "l do know that, but let's not forget that the limo driver is watching us," you whispered back.
“The window is closed, though. The driver is a woman.”
"Agreed, I'm not sure about how long this drive so how about we make the most of it? Hm?" Tyriq asked with a soft hum, shrugging.
The two of you finished your drinks, feeling the buzz of the drink flow through you, "Yeah, how about we try an exhibitionist kink that I want to do?" You suggested to him.
The sleek limo began to take a gentle turn to the right, going through the bright towering lights and passing through other cars, paying them no mind, as if you two were the only ones in the world.
He nodded, it was something that he never thought he'd do but with you, he wanted to try it. Just thought of it turned him on. An idea popped up in his head.
You grinned at the man before kissing down his neck, "You're bad, huh?" you said to him.
His fingers trailing over your arm and shivered from his touch, with your hand snaked below his pants before stopping, “Can I suck your dick? Just a taste Ty?” you whispered softly in his ear.
His breath hitched from your voice, and he nodded at you. “Y/N..yes you can, don't make me beg,” he sighed blissfully with a smirk. He was in for a treat from you, he didn't even know it yet.
And with his consent, you unzipped his zipped and gently slid down his boxers and pants a little bit, kissing his tip before wrapping your mouth around his thick, long brown dick, his arms rested on the armrest of the limo.
His tongue gliding over his lips, he groaned loudly once you bopped your head onto his dick, your tongue tracing shapes on the veins, he knew you looked so gorgeous doing this, “Fuck…so beautiful, suck it harder..” Tyriq panted heavily, his head fell back onto the soft cushion.
“Mmm..so good,” you mumbled lowly, your hand stroking him with your fingers rolling between his balls, he grunted once he locked eyes with the female limo driver.
The soft slurping and squelching sounds filled the car, the warmth of your mouth spurred him one.
“That mouth of yours..is perfect, I couldn't resist you, seeing you walk down that carpet…fuck!” Tyriq shouted out, pushing his hips upwards into your mouth.
Your palm stroked Tyriq’s dick with your cheeks hollowing around him as spit dripped from the corner of her lips, spit stuck to your hand and tricked down to his balls, "Fuck..Y/N.." he groaned deeply, his hands gripping the armrest tightly, You moaned around him, sending vibrations through his body.
“It’s turning me on when you suck this dick…that feels so fucking good,” Tyriq moaned again, hearing your muffled moans in response, filling that exhibitionist side of you once the driver’s eyes flickered back to your man.
You bopped your head faster and your cheeks hollowed harder, wetting his dick and seats up, covered with drops of precum and spit. Staining his pants, your dress. Good thing both of you wore black, “Just like that! Shit!”
His balls tightened in response around your fingers, his mouth parted as you twisted your hand around his dick, squeezing it lightly. “Shit!….Shit!…Y/N, please!” he begged for you, he gasped as if he lost oxygen in his lungs.
Finally, he reached it, his hot cum spilling into your mouth, you quickly swallowed every drop while you lifted you head, “It was good wasn't it?” You bragged with confidence, Smiling and using a warm towel from the edge to clean your mouth, you tossed it into the trash. You put his dick back into his boxers, he zipped them up, and pulled up his pants.
Before you could reply, his hand settled on the back of your neck, drawing you in. He kissed you passionately and intensely, and as you returned the kiss, you let out a moan. When you finally pulled away, a strand of saliva connected your lips and his.
“That was amazing, baby, my turn,” he sang playfully, giving you an tender kiss as you moaned, your pussy from his touch.
More friction, desperately.
You leaned in, “Touch me, please,” you whimpered softly, giving him consent to touch you.
His fingers grazed the edge of your dress as Tyriq planted kisses on your collarbone, marking your deep brown skin with hickeys. “Tyriq…” you moaned again, His fingers slipped beneath your panties, sensing your wetness through the fabric, humming softly in response against your shoulder.
“I couldn't leave my girl like this, so wet just from sucking my dick off?” Tyriq asked in a deep tone, his voice deepening. His finger rubbing your clit. “Y-yeah, I-it was big, couldn't fit it all..” you groaned before moving your hips. No teasing was a rule of yours, but Tyriq’s hand slid through your panties, pinching your clit.
He pushed your panties to the side, and rolled them down and off your ankles. You parted your legs wide for him, while gazing into his eyes, “You’re so fucking nasty, girl,” he groaned softly, his legs parted a bit.
His fingers parted your folds and slipped inside with ease, making you moan wildly, causing Kendra, the female driver to look back at him but she paid attention to the road still. “Shhh, I got you, my girl’s been stressed out?” he said, his lips nibbling on your bottom lip, the taste of wine and lip gloss.
“Yes..fuck!” you cried out, rolling your hips to that torturous pace, your arms wrapped around his shoulders tight, he must've told the driver to take the long way, your essence poured onto the seats, as he gently pulled the strings of your dress, your breasts poked out. He licked his lips.
“Beautiful titties,” he mumbled, his hands cupping your breasts softly, his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking them, pinching your nipples roughly before sucking the right softly. “Mhhm..” you hummed but moaned, you’d almost forgotten that you were still in the limo, you definitely needed this. Your hand rested on the back of his nape, feeling that comforting warmth.
In need of his touch as if it was religious, you hoped to your ancestors and God above that Kendra kept driving, eventually you would get home later, you need more.
His fingers thrust in and out of you, he watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, he pressed your back to his clothed chest. “I love it when you make a fucking mess on my fingers, I can't wait to feel it on my dick,” He teased, curling up his fingers. He was so nasty, so passionate. His dick hardens in his pants.
“I..i..I love this shit with you, so much, get deeper for me, baby,” You babbled softly, panting while moving your hips a bit. Your hands gripped the armrest, Tyriq was still behind you, keeping you close so you wouldn't hurt yourself.
“Oh shit! Shit! Tyriq!” you moaned suddenly once his fingers slid in deeper, your wet walls clenched tightly around his digits. Your wetness covered him completely and stained his pants but didn’t care.
The limo resumed driving straight again, while the little bumps on the roads made every sensation. Your pussy sucked his fingers right back in and clenched tight, “That’s right, you feel it? That pussy sucked me back in..fuck,” Tyriq groaned raspily, biting down his lip, You gasped, feeling the rhythm of his fingers and the warmth of his body pressed against yours.
The thrill of being in a moving vehicle, with the driver just a few feet away, was pulling you close to the edge. You were so close, but you weren't ready to go home; he pressed his bulge against you and moved his hips, “Don't see what you do to me?” Tyriq groaned as he felt your ass against him, giving your backside a playful smack that made you moan, clearly turned on by you.
His thumb flattened on your clit and circled, your mind blurred from pleasure and saw thousands of stars behind your closed eyelids, you were moaning loudly as his fingers went faster. “That pussy knows me so well,” Tyriq teased with a grin.
“You’re so good to me, just a little more baby,” You begged, your voice softened a bit, his fingers hit that sweet spot. Moving in a ‘come here’ motion over and over. “I got you,”
You nodded, feeling the tension build within you, the pressure mounting as he resumed to thrust his fingers, in and out, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot. “You drive me crazy, I'm gone fuck you so good when we get in that house,”
After his fingers turned sporadic and curled again, you felt yourself clench around his fingers. Waves crashing over you as you cried out his name, “Tyriq!”
He slowed his movements, letting you ride out the waves of your orgasm, feeling you pulse around him. The rush of it left you breathless, and you leaned back against his chest, panting as the aftershocks coursed through you.
“Damn, you’re beautiful when you cum,” he murmured, planting soft kisses along your shoulder and lips, sending little sparks of electricity through your body.
You turned to face him, still catching your breath. “You’re not too bad yourself,” you teased, a playful smile creeping onto your lips.
Tyriq chuckled, the sound low and rich, filling the quiet space of the limo. “I love you,” he said, he pulled out his fingers, watching you tie up the strings in the back of your dress.
“I love you too,” you agreed, stealing a quick kiss from him, feeling the warmth radiating between you.
The car slowed down, you could see the lights of your house glowing in the distance. “Looks like we're almost home,” you said, a hint of reluctance in your voice.
“That was fun, I liked that,” Tyriq replied, grinning like it was his birthday and he enjoyed his present. His eyes are still on you.
You nodded, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, “Yeah, I liked it too,” you said, that shy side coming out.
The limo finally came to a stop, and the driver turned to look at you both. “We’ve arrived,” she announced with a knowing smile, as if she understood the connection that had just blossomed between you two.
“Thanks, Kendra,” you said, feeling a bit shy as you realized the driver had witnessed more.
Tyriq opened the door, helping you out as you stepped onto the pavement. The cool night air hit your skin, and you shivered slightly, but Tyriq wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close again. He closed the door and let Kendra that he pay her immediately, apologizing for the mess on the seats.
“Let’s get inside,” he said, his tone both playful and protective.
Once inside, you closed the door behind yourself. Tyriq brought you into the bedroom, removing his suit as you peeled off your dress.
He quickly kissed you, your lips meeting. Your legs spread, he buried his dick inside you. His hands on your hips.
“My beautiful girl,” he groaned softly.
And with that, he made love to you all night long, distrubing your neighbors who obviously sent a nose complaint but you knew Tyriq would talk care of it. Your moans echoed through the walls, he kissed your shoulder and said, “Fuck ‘em, you can scream as loud as you want to,”
You left before the paint dried, before the resin cured. I', sorry that I made you wear jacket that's not yours. I was shooting in the gym. ~ Monaleo, Locked in
Monday
11:55 pm
Campus has a hush over it. I'm in one of the study rooms in my dorm while I figure out how I'm going to pass. I look up and see Ash making her way in. "Hey girl hey." she says to me. "Can I have five minutes by myself?" I ask.
"Girl boo. You know its hell week. Plus when is your last final?" she asks me. "Friday morning at ten. Then Ty is taking me to the airport to go home." I say to her. "Must be nice. Mines is at three. Then got to wait until the next day to go home." she says.
So we spent the next few hours going over material. "Alright, I'm done for the day. I'm going to get food. You in?" she asks me while packing up her bag. "You mind if Ty comes?" I ask. She smiles at me. "I remember at one point in the semester you hated this man, now you two are attached at the hip." she says.
I hated the fact that she was right. Because it all started that he spilled his food on me. Now look at where we are. Ty met us and we found a spot in the quad to eat.
"You mentally preparing yourself to go home?" Ash asks me. "Yeah. I know my mother will bitch and moan about me not coming home for Thanksgiving, but she'll get over it. At some point she's got to get this idea out her head that I'm not her blueprint. She got Mo for that," I say to them.
"You'll be fine. And what. You're the youngest out of?" she asks. "Three. Girl you met my siblings." I say. "That's right. During your birthday weekend." she says.
4:50 pm
I'm sitting in the middle of my bed scrolling through my messages. My parents are arranging who is going to be picking me up from the airport. Of course its Morgan. Fuck. That's going to be a headache.
9:45 pm
I finished packing. My parents got me a first class ticket home. Of fucking course. Going to be ambushed as soon as I get off the plane in Alexandria. Better be on my ps and qs.
Thursday
7:28 pm
My side of the room has officially is ready for break. "Will I see you before your final in the morning?" Ash asks me. I turn and look at her and smile. "Yes. I won't see you for a month after my final." I say as I wrap her in a hug. "Have I ever told you that that you are an amazing roommate?" she asks me. "Maybe once or twice." I say as we seperate. "But I'm heading to find a snack. Want to come with me?" I ask her.
"Yes. I need something for my in between times for exams." Ash says.
Eventually we find something. The dorm is extremely quiet. Tomorrow I'll be back in Virginia. I sigh as I think about how I'll be secluded with the family.
Friday
12:45 pm
Ty is with me in the airport. "You know you don't have to wait for me." I say to him. "I know but I need to make sure you get on the plane safe." he says. I smile at the statement. Overhead they call my flight. He wraps me in a warm hug. "Call me when you land." he says.
He let me go and he kisses my forehead. I walk through my gate. I find my seat and put on my headphones. This is going to be a long break.
Can you do another story with Cameron Cade and plus size reader?
natural high ❥ tyriq withers
PAIRING: tyriq withers as “cameron ‘cam’ cade” from “him (2025)” x black!fem!plus-sized!reader
SUMMARY: inspired by “Natural High (Even Higher Learning)” by Freddie Gibbs + this edit + in which Cameron comes home from late-night football practice with only you on his mind. 🩷
AUTHOR’S NOTE: i was initially saving this req for a different fic i’ve been working on (which is also a req) but i wanted to put out another filler chapter while i finish other drafts, so enjoy ☺️
the front door opening and closing was what shifted you from half-asleep to a bit more aware of your surroundings. you stirred slightly in bed and peered over to the alarm clock on your nightstand, ‘3:15 A.M.’ staring back at you in LED writing.
before you could move further, the sound of heavy footsteps caught your attention and you turned your head just in time to see none other than Cameron Cade standing at the doorway shirtless and in a pair of sweatpants with his gym bag thrown over one of his broad shoulders.
“did i wake you?” Cameron asked lowly, his voice surprisingly rough, as he walked over to his closet and tossed his gym bag inside with a soft huff.
“no,” you answered softly as you shifted onto your back to properly watch him, “i been awake for a while now.”
“i told you ‘bout staying up late waiting on me, ma,” Cameron sighed as he pulled back the covers and climbed underneath them, pulling them back into their original place while he moved to climb on top of you, “don’t want you losin’ sleep ‘cause i’m at practice so late, baby.”
“i’m sorry,” you murmured, your hands instinctually moving to rest against his upper arms, as Cameron carefully lowered his weight onto you and pressed his body against yours, a soft hum of contentment falling from his lips at your warmth, “how was practice?—”
“don’t wanna talk about it,” the words flew quickly from Cameron’s mouth as if they’d already been sitting at the back of his throat the moment practice ended, and he pressed two soft pecks against your lips before lowering his head to rest in the crook of your neck, “need you to make me feel better.”
this wasn’t an unfamiliar situation when it came down to Cameron and football practice. he was unethically overworked, and as a QB, it seemed as if he was always carrying so much more on his shoulders than he needed to — so much more than a person could mentally handle.
you were his anchor through it all. you kept him grounded and gave him an outlet to let out his emotions, along with helping him relax when his body was coiled tightly with tension.
“i’ll be quick, baby,” Cameron whispered against your neck, sliding his hands under the oversized shirt on your body that was technically his, as his large palms tenderly caressed your chunky waist and his thumbs grazed the waistband of your underwear, “promise i will… just… can’t sleep without feelin’ you around me first.”
“you don’t have to rush, Cam,” you reassured him softly as you cradled the back of his head and he groaned quietly at your touch, “take what you need from me, baby.”
Cameron inhaled sharply from your words and you felt his body go stiffer as he raise his head from your neck and took a hand off your waist to pull your panties to the side, a string of arousal clinging to them and making him groan desperately at the sight.
“oh, baby…” Cameron sighed deeply as he held your panties aside with one hand and used his other to push his shorts and boxers down enough to expose his dick, “so grateful for you… and this pussy. so grateful for my pretty girls. so fuckin’ grateful.”
before either of you could utter a word, Cameron was already pushing inside you, a guttural moan falling from his lips at feeling your pussy greedily swallow every inch of him and pull him deeper and deeper inside your slick walls.
your breathing hitched and a broken gasp fell from your mouth as you watched his hips slowly push forward before your eyes flickered up to Cameron’s face, taking note of his glossy eyes and blown pupils.
the moment he was buried to the hilt was when his tension suddenly washed away, and he stared down at you reverently as he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, his big hands finding your chunky waist through the shirt on your body and firmly holding onto it.
“i love you,” Cameron moaned roughly as his hips slowly pulled back before roughly snapping forward, earning a squeal from you while your hands grabbed ahold of his back, “fuck, i love you so much, baby… don’t know where i’d be without you.”
despite Cameron’s sweet nothings, his hips seemingly had a mind of their own. he fucked into you like a man starved, the bed creaking rhythmically underneath the two of you while he deeply pounded your pussy.
his nose occasionally brushed against yours and his groans mingled with your moans as you clung to him and he clung to you right back, his hands now tightly gripping your thick hips to pull you into his quick thrusts and maintain his rhythm while your nails sunk into his back to hold him against you.
“C-Cam!—”
“i k-know, baby. fuck, i know,” Cameron moaned pathetically as he suddenly wrapped his arms around your body and held you against his body, his hips flush against yours while he rocked them back and forth and ultimately created friction between his pelvis and your clit, “you takin’ it so good f’me, mama, just hold onto me… i got you. i always got you.”
to Cameron, you were more than his girlfriend. you were almost like a drug. something that kept him grounded, but also kept him calm and at peace. something that kept him relaxed and let his mind find tranquility in silence. something that gave him a high, but it wasn’t the typical high that anyone would get from a standard drug.
you might’ve felt like a drug, but you gave a better high than others did — a natural high that had Cameron dependent on you to destress him from the trials and tribulations of his life.
PAIRING: tyriq withers as “cameron ‘cam’ cade” from “him (2025)” x black!fem!reader
SUMMARY: in which your grades unintentionally start to slip, so Cameron prohibits you from any kind of sexual act until you fix them, which motivates you to put forth more effort than you did before. so the moment your final grades get released, you waste no showing them to him so you can get what you need. 🩷
you didn’t mean for it to happen, but once the damage was done, you knew you’d be in trouble.
you may or may not have goofed around with your friends for the first month and a half of the semester, unknowingly prioritizing fun over your academics. sure, your attendance was on point and you never missed an assignment, but when you started going out to frat parties almost every weekend with your homegirls, your grades unfortunately started to slip.
it all happened so fast — the parties, the drinking, the Friday night outings, the reckless fun that practically took over your life — but it all stopped as quick as it started once your midterm grades got released. Cs and below stared threateningly at you, and you swore you felt your heart drop straight to your ass at the sight.
you didn’t know how it happened. you had always been an A and B student, so the sight of multiple grades below those made you sick to your stomach. but when Cameron found out? you felt like you could’ve vomited right in his face.
Cameron wasn’t the type to really fuss at you or even be strict on you, but when he found out what your grades were, he practically turned into your father. he got on you about your grades firmer than you expected, but the moment he told you that he’d stop fucking you and touching you sexually until you got your grades up was when you went rigid.
granted, you weren’t mad at him for taking away those privileges — you shouldn’t have even let your grades slip this bad anyway — but you knew your sexual frustration would eat away at you until the semester ended and final grades were released.
so what did you do? you worked your ass off for the rest of the semester to fix your grades.
no more parties, no more drinking, no more Friday night outings — nothing. when the weekend came, you had completely sheltered yourself in your room with nothing but your laptop and notebooks as you completed assignments and studied for upcoming exams.
you were determined to get your grades back up, but you were even more determined to be rewarded by Cameron for getting your grades back up.
once the semester came to an end and final exams wrapped up, you were practically ecstatic. you had a good feeling that you brought up your grades, but you knew you couldn’t say anything to Cameron about them because he’d ask for proof, so you waited until you were notified that final grades had been released — which came quicker than you expected.
you wasted no time logging into your Banner account and clicking through it to see your grades, your eyes lighting up at the sight of As and Bs staring back at you. satisfaction and relief coursed deeply through you as the realization settled in — you recovered rather quickly from what could’ve been a horrible blow to your GPA.
you didn’t bother celebrating on your own, though. the moment you saw your grades, you were already in the driver’s seat of your car. you drove to Cameron’s apartment with nothing but intense excitement and suppressed sexual desire inside you — though your excitement seemingly overpowered everything else because when you arrived at his apartment, you practically bursted through his door.
“Cameroooon!” you called out excitedly as you quickly pushed open his door and unintentionally slammed it behind you, swiftly locking it before taking off through his apartment, “baby! where you at?!”
Cameron jumped at the sudden sound of your appearance and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion mixed with amusement as he sat up on the couch and watched you practically pace through his humble abode to find him, “i’m in the living room. why you screamin’, you good?”
a squeal flew from your mouth before you could catch it at the sound of his voice and you ran into the living room as you threw yourself at him and into his lap, making him grunt before laughing at you while his arms instinctively wrapped around your body to steady you.
“what’s goin’ on with you, ma? why you runnin’ around here like somebody after you or some shit?” Cameron laughed as both of his eyebrows raised and he leaned back against the couch to properly look at you, his arms loosening around you and his hands moving to hold your waist.
“look!” you practically shoved your phone into his chest, but his reflexes kicked in and one of his hands caught it before it could actually come in contact with him, “i did it, Cam!”
Cameron let out a soft snort at your frantic joy and he adjusted his grip on your phone as he lifted it and his eyes averted to the screen, an understanding smile crossing his face once it clicked in his mind why you were so excited.
“see, that’s what i’m talking ‘bout. congrats, baby, i knew you could do it.” Cameron smiled, looking up at you, as you smiled back, yours wider than his, and you leaned down to him, peppering kisses across his face before moving your mouth to his and pecking his lips multiple times.
“okay, now eat my pussy,” you mumbled between pecks as Cameron laughed lowly and sat your phone aside, his hand on your waist sliding around to rest against your back while his other gently grabbed the back of your neck and slightly pulled you back from his mouth, “Cameron, come on— i haven’t felt any part of you in so long, i need this.”
“that ain’t how you ask, pretty,” Cameron teased, a small smirk creeping onto his face, as you groaned softly and rested your hands against his shoulders, a pout absentmindedly forming on your face at his denial, “ask for it properly.”
“can you please eat my pussy, baby?” you asked sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him, as your thumbs traced small circles against his shoulders and Cameron’s smirk slightly widened, “i need you, Cam, you know that.”
Cameron looked at you silently for a moment, letting the weight of your words settle into the atmosphere, before he suddenly wrapped his arms around you and flipped you over, eliciting an abrupt squeal from you while he laid you on your back.
“well… since you asked nicely,” Cameron paused and gently pecked your lips before slowly maneuvering down your body, “and you brought your grades up like i wanted you to,” he paused again and hooked his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants as he teasingly tugged at them before pulling them down and throwing them aside, “i should reward you for that, huh?”
“yeah,” your voice was softer than before — a bit breathy as well — and you raised your hips as you helped him remove the last barrier of clothing that covered your lower body, “you should.”
“i got you, mama.” Cameron’s arms wrapped around your legs and he spread them wide as he dipped his head between your thighs and pressed soft kisses against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, gently nipping at them before sticking out his tongue and slowly licking a long stripe of your pussy.
your body shuddered from the familiar yet forgotten feeling and you whimpered as your hands came down to cradle the back of Cameron’s head, your fingertips running over his buzzed hair and slightly grazing the stapled scar by his hairline.
Cameron groaned under his breath, though he didn’t know if it was coaxed out of him by your taste or touch, and his fingers slightly tightened against your thighs as he began eating your pussy like a man who hadn’t eaten in years, a small furrow forming between his eyebrows while he buried his face into your cunt.
your head fell back against the couch cushions and a high-pitched moan fell from your mouth as your eyes rolled back and your jaw went slack, a yelp erupting from you at feeling Cameron’s mouth lock around your clit.
“oh, fuuuck, baby— C-Cam!” you cried out, your eyebrows furrowing, as your back started to arch up from the couch but you suddenly felt his palm press into your stomach to hold you down, a whine falling from your mouth while one of your hands slid down to hold onto the back of Cameron’s neck, “uuugh, shiiiit! mmh, don’t s-stop!”
Cameron’s long fingers splayed across your stomach and kept you from running away as his other hand slid between your legs and he dragged his middle finger through your folds, collecting your arousal before he eased it inside of you.
“fuck!” a broken whimper fell from your mouth and your legs jerked as your head raised and you looked down at Cameron, pleasure displayed across your pretty face and mixing with a hint of bewilderment.
you had been so wound up for the past few months from Cameron’s “no sex or head” rule, but it seemed like you weren’t the only one affected by it. Cameron had always been skilled at eating pussy, but the way he was feasting on you today felt different — as if he was practically starving for another taste of you.
Cameron’s eyes found yours and you watched the corners of his mouth slightly lift in what you assumed to be a smirk, the sight of shock mixed with pure bliss in your expression telling him more than you even needed to.
pulling his mouth off of your clit, Cameron rolled and wiggled his tongue against it as he pushed his ring finger inside you and slightly scissored them to stretch you further open, eliciting a desperate mewl from you while you watch him torment you with his mouth and fingers.
“you gon’ cum for me, ma? hm?” Cameron murmured against your clit, flicking his tongue against it, as he slightly pulled back and spit on your clit before replacing his mouth with his thumb, rubbing it in quick circles while his fingers thrusted deeply inside you, “you gon’ let me taste how much you been missin’ me, pretty girl?”
“y-yes!” you whined, your head falling back for a second time, as you gasped sharply and your legs jerked again, your eyes rolling back and your eyebrows furrowing deeply while a small scrunch formed in the bridge of your nose, “ohhh, my G— C-Cameroooon! shiiiit, baby, i-i’m—”
“uh-huh, i know. i know, baby. keep soakin’ my fingers just like that. gimme’ all that good shit.”
Black Fem! Reader x Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore & Elias ‘Stack’ Moore. (modern-day)
▶︎▶︎Part 1/2.◀︎◀︎
Summary: Your next-door neighbors, Stack & Smoke were your best friend’s twin brothers. Elias was drawn to what was forbidden, & Elijah had his eye on you. After one fantasy of the twins, you needed to get them out of your system.
A/N: My apologies for my absence, been busy with work but here’s Smoke & Stack! Enjoy! 🤭
Warnings: threesome with twins, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, cumshots, choking, fingers in mouth, biting, dumbification, overstimulation, praise, AU where Stack & Smoke are in the modern-day world, cocky!Stack, best friend's brothers trope, thigh riding, face fucking, mean!Smoke, cum play, teasing, fingering, rough sex, jealousy, head, sneaking around, use of n-word, mean!Stack, aftercare, manhandling?
Stack was nothing more than merely your best friend’s annoying ass twin brother. Far too cocky for your liking, and far too fine to let yourself get caught up. Reckless, smooth talker who would chase after the young women, or sneak in older women who wanted a personal taste for Ladies Night.
While Elijah was more quiet than Elias, taciturn, and took his time to speak with women than his fast-moving younger brother.
However, women often eyeing Smoke discreetly, they were drawn to his quiet nature, his strapping physique, and the women he kept.
Smoke never had a problem with women, and they loved the strong, silent type of men.
Women often calling them Devils In Twos and quoting that comes in many forms, even in midnight blue, not just crimson red.
At first, you didn't know that Eliana had two twin half-brothers…well, as she would explain it, two twin brothers. Their mother would say, “God didn't make half of anythin’ you hear? You are family,” and they took it to heart.
Their baby sister, Eliana with her breathtaking beauty, is a spitting image of their mom. She has brown skin, a button nose, dimples, plump lips, with bouncing curls down her back, and an hourglass body. Same traits as her big brothers, with a softer side.
Her nickname was Sage, which emphasizes her calmness that she brings to the sibling dynamic. The yin to their yang, and the créme de la créme.
The men? Either hunted down, beaten to death, or killed to be televised on the morning news for disrespect, breaking her heart, or looking her way, without any consequences to the brothers.
Overprotective as hell? Yes.
Stubborn as hell? Yes.
Soft spots for their sister? Yes.
You meet their sister in the neighborhood, where she moved into on the first day, casual talks about your jobs, movies, TV shows, dating, and music, various topics. You, and Eliana shared similar interests, views, and she could talk shit about her brothers frequently.
The Moore brothers had various business ventures, as proved by the papers on permanent ink. Stack worked on his popular club. While Smoke operated in the management, production, and high-end beverage business of his own, importing all over the world.
Smoke is investing in his own bar, Smokey’s Hub, right across from the strip club, which Stack owns for himself. Smoke objected to the idea, but Stack insisted on making more money, and Sage worked in the bar with Smoke, bartending to patrons.
Eliana felt safe, and comfortable around you. She had a real friend, not just someone who wanted to be around her brothers, or fuck them.
Who wouldn't?
It was pleasant to see that their little Sage was happy, smiling, and out of her comfort zone around you. Initially, you found her brothers attractive, but your interest was in getting to know her.
You had a strong friendship with Smoke, but Stack was occasionally a friend as well.
Stack had his moments, but your affection for the twins was evident, and they were aware of it too.
Sage and Smoke were vigilant of their brother’s mischief, including yourself. Who knows how many fake friends went after Stack, and left Sage in the dark, alone, in tears. Unforgiving of her brother.
They were either in their house or following behind his baby sister into yours, arm over her shoulder with that stupid grin across his face.
Stack would say that his television was broken, or needed to borrow some sugar, making various excuses just to see his sister, and you. He would try flirting, and sweet talk, while you hurl insults or bite back at him While Smoke followed behind him, smacking him upside his head.
His sister wasn't buying it. Sage replied by saying “You see me every day, go on and play with your little hoes,” as if he were a pimp from back in the day.
Sage was onto his game with you, and her. She warned you so many times about Stack, and you listened diligently to her, and Smoke.
However, one Friday night, you invited the twins over to your house for dinner, while you were cooking late at night, the men stood between you, carefully helping you prepare the meals, as they did.
You accidentally bumped into both of them, they stood before you, their eyes settled on you. Seductive. You didn’t say a word, and they only apologized for getting in your way.
Your mind created a nasty fantasy of you in between Stack & Smoke, you were on all fours, mouth full of Stack while Smoke fucked you from behind as he hated you, a man that deprived, in desperate need of your touch. Tears falling down your face, mascara running, twisting in pleasure.
Smoke & Stack had you in multiple positions, their big hands all over you, leaving no place untouched. Claiming you as theirs, kissing you, biting you into your skin.
The dream seemed so vivid that you attempted to fall asleep that same night. You couldn't sleep. Your fingers slipped beneath your panties, moving against your pulsating clit, and your fingers deep inside your pussy. Finger fucking yourself until you come over and over, leaving a mess over your sheets, yourself included.
You changed the sheets and took a shower. Despite that, the wet dream remained engraved in your memory. And you wanted to make it happen, and you've had a little crush on them.
Obviously, you didn't tell Sage that, when she would only jump to conclusions, and make accusations. Admit that you've never been a real friend to her at all.
Stack & Smoke was your next-door neighbors in the neighborhood, with its prestigious reputation nestled in a grand location where they paid extra for security, camera surveillance, privacy, and were squeaky clean in every way.
Still, Sage was becoming suspicious of you, and Stack together. The longing glances, flirting from him mostly, and you flirting back.
She trusted Smoke wouldn't do the same, and you were discreetly looking his way without her noticing, mainly because he was quiet and didn’t talk much.
Though Smoke was silent, it doesn't mean he’s not sneaking around or out-going like Stack. Hell, Smoke might even be fucking a woman or two, turning her whichever way she pleases.
People often underestimate the quiet ones, expecting little of them.
Eliana lay sprawled across the large pink couch, eyelids closed gently, a pink woolen blanket draped over her body. Softly snoring, as your eyes flickered toward her, and then back to the television screen, showing an episode of Living Single.
You lay slouched across the second couch on the right side of the spacious living room. Relaxed, relishing in the silence for a moment.
She was getting some rest after a hectic night at Smoke’s bar, and either he or Stack would usually ensure she got home safely on his days off since they lived in the same neighborhood as you.
She frequently came by to chat all day and could sleep through anything, yawning softly, blinking twice before rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Refreshed, yet still slightly fatigued.
“Y/n?” Sage mumbled, her voice soft yet raspy from sleep.
You hummed in response, smiling softly. “Hey, sleepy head,” you whispered playfully, waving at her.
“Girl, work has been so stressful with Eli lately. The bar was packed,'cause Elias brought in half naked bottle girls from his damn club,” Eliana spoke unsettled, half asleep, half-awake. Her southern accent spilling from her speech.
Your brows creased at her sleepy speech, as the image you created in your mind appeared like magic. Your hand smacked over your mouth, stifling a laugh.
The vibration of your laugh tickles your palm, with one hand over your stomach. The pain inside crept through. “He’s so crazy, I can see him doing that,” You added, clearing your throat.
Eliana chuckled coyly, with a slight grin. “Smoke almost blew a fuse at him but it brought in more business for us. They asked about you," She says halfheartedly, rolling her eyes.
You blinked twice. “They did? How are they?”
“Unfortunately, yes. They are always asking about you, and wonder how you're doing. I don't like it. You like them?” Sage asked casually as if it took away the unease.
“Sage, you’re barking up the wrong tree here, ask them, yourself,” You shot back, your voice held an edge that barely concealed your frustration with this tangled situation.
Sage waved you off, with a defensive nod, before you caught that eye roll from her. You squinted at your friend and you scoffed coyly.
“You think every girl you're friends with is gonna fuck your brothers, even me?” You asked, accusing her, your voice in a strict tone.
Sage rose from her spot on the couch and snatched her blanket as if to cover herself from shame. Trust issues, fear of facing the same cycle again. She knew she shouldn't have said that to you, but you knew Sage was thinking it. Ruthless.
“You’re thinking it, but you won't say it.” You snapped, your head shook gently.
“Y/N…please. I'm sorry,” Sage whined softly, her lip poking out.
Spoiled rotten. Always used to get what she wanted, but that didn't include friends.
“No, you’re not.” You snapped in a calm tone, eyeing her up, and down.
Sage didn't say a word, speechless. Her face softening, with guilt, anxiety, and lament. Her lips fell into a frown, her shoulders slumped faintly. You could see it in her.
“Okay. I know you, and you're my friend. I don't want to lose you like this. I'm so fucking sorry!” Sage exclaimed worrily, her arms wrapped around you, her face buried in your neck. Overly clingy.
You didn't cave in, able to resist her. Pushing her away. Her face turned sour, while your face remained neutral. “Don’t you have a home to get to?” You shot back rudely, your hand gestures to the front door.
That cute shit isn't going to work on you, not now. Sage sighed in defeat, nodding in agreement. “I need to go home, I need to clear my head anyway.” Sage mumbled, her lip fell into a frown.
Sage says farewell to you. She stepped out with quickness and closed the door firmly. Hours later, you heard footsteps thudding against the concerte, fading away.
Your phone vibrated on the coffee table, your eyes flickered toward it, just after grabbing it. Your eyes focused on the screen, it was your best friend, Jaelyn. With a press of your thumb, you held the phone to your ear.
“Hey, Jaelyn. How's your evening going?”
“Hey, girl! It's going good, how about you?”
You sucked in a shallow breath, before your fingers tugged at the tussels of your pillows. Your lips fell into a tight line, frustration with your current feelings, and your choice.
There was no time to be adamant about your feelings, and you knew what you wanted.
“You remember Eliana’s twin brothers, Smoke & Stack? The same ones I've introduced you to a couple of weeks ago?” You mentioned knowingly, gesturing to them as if they were in the room.
“Yeah? The two fine twins? And their bratty sister?” Jaelyn drawled, blinking twice, unaware of what you were asking.
You knew that Jaelyn wouldn't judge you, or make a mockery of your feelings. She's been through similar experiences as you. Best friend since elementary school.
“Yup, those two. So I had a freaky dream about them a couple of nights ago…” You dragged along, your eyes glued to the ceiling.
“Ouuuuu! You did?! Girl, did they have you in a threesome? Did you suck their dicks? Doggystyle? Missionary? From the side? Cowgirl? Reverse?” Jaelyn exclaimed, her voice seductive, almost frantic.
“Yesss that, and they did! Every single one! It felt real to me, too.”
Jaelyn gasped softly, her hand over her chest. Her mouth parted slightly as if she moaned from the image. “Let me guess you want to fuck them?” she teased, grinning.
Your fingers dug deep into the fabric of the pillow, bringing your knees to your chest. Your lip poked out, “You know I do,”
“Then what's stopping you? Sage? You?" Jaelyn asked boldly, her head tilting.
“Nobody?” You drawled, biting your lip.
“Exactly! Why do you care for Sage’s opinion, or her thoughts? She'll have to deal with it or leave, somehow. Everyone wants to fuck her brothers,” London says, shrugging it off.
You sighed in relief, chuckling softly. “Preaching to the choir, boo!”
“We both know you don't want to be friends with those niggas. I'm 100% sure they like you. I see how they look at you, like they’re ready to tear that ass up! Simultaneously!" Jaelyn exclaimed, laughing on the other end of the line.
“Simultaneously is crazy!” You cackled loudly, eyes snapped shut.
You, and Jaelyn burst into laughter, you hand over your stomach, the sound echoing through the house. Head thrashing across the pillow, your palm hitting the cushion, thudding softly.
“Shit..I would fuck the brothers too, and I wouldn't give a single fuck, you hear me?” Jaelyn added, exhaling to stop herself from laughing.
“I hear you. I appreciate this shit so much, Jae!”
“Of course, girl! I'm here for you, just like you're here for me. All shade but I'm your real friend!”
“Girl, I love you but you're making my stomach hurt—”
You almost flinched at the sound of a sudden knock, pondering on the identity of the visitor. “Shit!” you mumbled, your eyes flickered toward the door in caution. "What's wrong, are you okay?” Jaelyn asked in concern.
“Yeah, but someone is at my door,” You say, carefully rising from the couch.
Silently wishing that it wasn't Sage. Swiftly checking your phone, you caught a glance of your Ring Camera live feed.
Stack & Smoke appeared on the screen, with Smoke acknowledging you with a chin raise and Stack displaying a self-satisfied smile.
“Girl! It's Smoke & Stack!”
“Ouuu! You’d better go fuck them! You got this!” Jaylen encouraged, winking at you.
You chuckled at your bestie’s nasty encouragement, and winked playfully at her. “Thanks, boo! I'll give you the details later!”
“Anytime, and yes, please! I can’t wait for the tea!” Jaelyn quiqqed, smirking with mischief.
With a push of your thumb, you laughed it off, and ended the phone call.
Your face lit up, until you swung the screen door and door, open. Revealing Elias in a grey oversized hoodie, and matching sweatpants, crisp, white Air Force Ones, on his feet. While Elijah opted for a black hoodie, and sweatpants. For the biting chill of fall, your favorite season.
You chuckled lightly, before letting them inside your house, stepping aside. “Hi Elijah, Hi Elias, Why are y’all here?” You asked, pushing the doors closed, locking them shut.
The men scraped their shoes outside and gently kicked them off into the shoe basket beside the door.
The twins loomed over you as Stack leaned in, with your hand pressing against his chiseled abs. Warmth spread through you, as your hand glided over his abdomen, pushing him back a few. Stack stumbled back, grinning, while you rolled your eyes.
“We can't see you, now? Hm?” Stack hummed, his hands mushed your face, gently shaking your head from side to side.
“Stack, stop playing..” You snapped, squinting. Your palm swatted at his arm, Stack hissing with a smirk.
“But it's cute you act all fuckin’ tough,” Stack winced, his voice playful.
“Nigga, you play too much,” Smoke gritted, cutting his eyes at him.
“Nigga, you just jealous,” Stack tutted, matching his death glare.
You strode off toward the couch that faced the television, and gently plopped down, as the twins followed behind you. Smoke sat beside you on the right while Stack sat on the left side. Sandwiched between them, just like the dream. Their cologne is spicy, woody, possibly a hint of dark cherry, and cinnamon. Fuck, they smelled really good.
Your body shifted, thighs pressed together. Stack & Smoke sat manspread, his knees brushing against yours on purpose yet Smoke’s arm rested over the couch. Stack’s death glare cut at Smoke, yet his big brother smirked impishly. Panties pooling from the closeness, the rush of heat flowed through you.
“I've finally had a day today, and another couple of days off tomorrow, which is good. I need a damn break,” You say with a sigh, your head falling back on the pillow.
“Folks ‘round there stressin’ you out too much?” Smoke asked gently, the rasp crept in.
“Yes, I've been there for 3 years now, and I don't plan to stay long. Being an assistant to a corporate boss in the office is not what I thought I was.” You complained, shrugging.
Ideas floated through their minds, hoping to provide a solution to your problem, an escape for you.
“If you don't want to keep workin’ over there, then would you be open to workin’ in a bar? I've got security, good music, decent folks in their right mind, and good food,” Smoke spoke, sincerity in his tone.
“Or would you work in a strip club? Bartendin’ if you want,” Stack chimed in, careful with his time.
Thankfully, you’ve already had a bartending license, and on-the-job training. You knew how everything occurred from start to finish.
How could you say no to good music, and good food? Decent folks in their right mind? Sold. Yet, bars, and strip clubs always attract weirdos. Smoke would be there 24/7, Stack would be there too.
“Honestly, I do need a new job, and I'm so fucking exhausted of my current one. My boss is such a bratty bitch,” You grumbled, rolling your eyes.
Humming lightly, your head snapped in the direction of Smoke. “I'll work in the bar then, Smokey Bear!” You exclaimed with a grin, batting your eyelashes at him.
Smoke’s lips curled into a big smile, lips still closed shut. His heart skipped a beat at the nickname.
“Good to hear,” Smoke whispered.
Stack snickered at the nickname you've called Smoke. His hand over his mouth. You laughed but stopped yourself immediately, you thought it was cute for Elijah. He offered an incredible bear hug, reminiscent of a bear…cautious, caring, and powerful.
“Smokey Bear? Y/n, you tellin’ me only this nigga can prevent wild fires?” Stack asked, still belting out hysterical laugh.
“The fuck you laughin’ for Stacky-wacky?” Smoke cooed, dragging along a snicker.
Stack’s lips tightened in a line, faintly twitching at the nickname from Smoke. Scoffed it off.
“The fuck that mean?” Stack asked rudely, squiting hard at his brother.
A laugh spilling out of your lips, as Stack cut his eyes at you, but your lips went into a tight line. “Ok, it was a little funny, Stack!” You chimed in, shrugging.
“Guys, I have to tell you something. So I had trouble sleeping a couple of nights ago,” You confessed, your eyes darting between the men.
You swallowed hard, clearing your thoart. “N-no. It was a sex dream about you, and Stack. I was between the two of you, and it felt real.”
“A sex dream?” Smoke & Stack say in unison, intrigued yet bewildered.
A rush of heat flooded your face, embarrassment couldn't creep in. You weren't feeling like that anymore, the release was needed. Rose from the couch, your eyes darting between the twins. Your face softened, with something unreadable.
“Yes, and honestly, I want it to come true for me and I should get y'all out of my system,” You drawled softly, your hand resting over the nape of your neck.
Smoke & Stack exchanged longing gazes, fighting off a slow bite of their lips. Their faces softening with love, something deeper was brimming inside of them. A war
“You should get us out of yo’ system, Y/n? You sure ‘bout that sweetheart?” Stack spoke up first, his voice dangerously gravelly, and raspy.
You blinked twice. “Yeah, why?”
You wouldn't be surprised if the women they fucked separately, or together the women wouldn't be able to get Elijah, or Elias out of their system, or forget about them.
Smoke & Stack rose their positions from the couch, their posture straightened, and still. The twins stepped forward, yet flanked you on either side of you simultaneously.
Smoke leaned in, his lips inches away from your ear. Heat sank in your body, breath hitching. Caught in your thoart. His gaze on you, possessive, and salacious.
“Once we fuck you. Y/n, you’re our girl. You know how we feel about you, baby?” Smoke drawled, his voice deepened with his accent. His warm minty breath tickles your skin.
“Ya'll know how Sage is,” You say, nervousness in your tone.
Stack’s head tilted slightly, glancing at you, as if he was ready to take you down. His finger slides under your chin and his thumb rests under your lips, forcing your gaze to his.
Heat spreads through your body as you meet his gaze softly, trying to hold it as if it could prevent yourself from melting.
Despite this, you involuntarily moaned, your pulse pounding loudly in your ears. Pointless. Your panties were already wet enough, even before any touch by either of them.
You liked this, you inhaled sharply. “Are y'all clean?
Smoke & Stack nodded in reassurance. “Yeah, we’re clean. We get checked every day, and wear condoms..”
You wanted to feel them instead, entirely. “T-that’s good. But can I feel y'all this time..”
“All you have to do is say it, and we'll fuck you how you want. Just like that lil dream of yours and I know. Even better than that dream, baby.” Smoke whispered in your ear, watching your shiver in front of them.
One twin in your ear, and the other twin in front of you.
It was the classic trope of a devil and angel on your shoulders, but this time there were two devils. One wore the blue hour, while the other was dressed in crimson red.
“You grown, ain't you? What’chu worryin’ ‘bout her for?” Stack asked, controlled, and inviting.
You leaned forward, arching your back instinctively. Your thighs clenched together, catching the eyes of both Stack and Smoke, whose lips curled into mischievous smiles in perfect unison.
“Just fuck me already,”
—————
You lie flat on your stomach, with your chin resting on your arms, folded. Naked, as your eyes flickered toward the twins who stood bare at the edge of your bed, their dicks were thick, deep brown, swinging near their thighs. The weight of their dicks was heavy. Yet you waited for them, desperately.
Damn. Now, you saw why.
“You can touch me..” You whispered, audible enough for the men to hear.
Smoke kneeled on the bed, sliding toward you with a small smirk of mischief, his movement, forward and dangerously deliberate. His palm pressed against your stomach, fingers splayed possessively. Gently pushing you down on the soft violet bedding, your legs spreading wide for him. Elijah wanted to taste you first, his tongue gliding over his lip.
“Fuckk,” Smoke groaned raspily, as he wrapped his lips around your clit, your mouth fell into a silent gasp once his tongue traced teasing, slow shapes over your clit. He was in sync with every tiny heartbeat, your hands shot out, fingers gripped the bedspread and the heels of your feet dug into the mattress. “Oh—-fuckk!!” you moaned again, and again.
Smoke’s hands slipped under your knees, gripped, and lifted, resting over his shoulders. Your voice spilling out in a plethora of loud choked moans, cuss words. “OhmyfuckingggGodddd!” you mewled, nails clawing at his back, almost drawing blood. Smoke growled raspily across your clit, and your lip poked out, whimpering softly. His tongue lowered to your brown folds, tongue kisses your folds deep as if they were your lips. “You sayin the wrong name..” Stack grunted lowly, lapping your cum in his mouth. Slurping, swallowing, as his lips opened, closed simultaneously.
Your body squirmed, shook, in his tight grip. Your hand over his head, Smoke swayed his head from side to side over your folds crazily, your back arching over the wet sheets. He made a mess of you, everywhere.
“Nah, baby, you pray to us,” Smoke rasped, the pad of his thumb flattened over clit. His fingers nudged your folds open, curling into your G-spot. “Elijahhh!” You lost your mind, begging him. Smoke added suction, the sounds of your pussy swallowing his fingers, and your moans brought a simmering anger in Stack. Finger fucking you like a madman. He could make you cum like that, twice as fast. “You get wetter when I do this?” he cooed, smirking devilishly. Your cum splattered all over his palm, creating a bigger pool. “Yesss!”
Stack stood there, arms crossed. Eyes rolled. Unfazed. He kneeled, and slid behind you, his gaze darting to you, and Smoke. His palm rested over his dick, closing his fist. Raspily groaned from his own touch, lifting his dick, in his hand. His hand mashed your face, yet you were unable to speak. “Open,” Stack admonishes, his moan spilled out, his head leaned over you, and your mouth parted wide. “That’s our girl..” he praised, before crashing his lips into yours, shoving his tongue in, as your tongue tangled with his, swallowing your feeble moans.
Your fucked yourself into Smoke’s fingers, your moans vibrating against Stack’s mouth. Stack broke the kiss, as he pushed his dick inside your mouth. You took him in as best you could, the weight of his dick was heavy, but your cheeks were hollowing around him. “Suck harder…” Stack hummed lowly, his eyes snapped shut and you did. Elicit raspy groans from the twins. The vibration from your mouth due to Smoke devouring you drove him insane. Jaw aching. “This mouth made for sucking dick..” You were already so sensitive, as you jerked away, his nose tickled your clit, Smoke didn't give you mercy. Are these men trying to kill you through pleasure? Yeah, they were.
Smoke’s hand & Stack’s hand reached out, fingers gently gripped at your titties, kissing each swell of your breasts. Stack teased your left nipple between his teeth, while Smoke copied him on the right, sharply rolling the areola between their canines, while Stack’s finger pinched your clit. “Pussy made for this..” Smoke says, sliding in one more finger. Your thighs clenched against Smoke’s temples. You whined loudly, “P-please—-Elijah!! Elias!!!” you moan muffled on his dick. Your hand stroked what you couldn't fit in your mouth. “Nah. Go on and suck..slut..” Stack grunted, groaned, and moaned against you, your cheeks hollowing.
He tapped the fat head of his dick against your uvula, spurting spit, beads of precum. Stack moaned lowly. You made muffled choking sounds entirely, your hand pumping him still. Stack moved your hand. “I said suck my dick..no strokin’ baby..” Stack teased. Such a bully.
Stack’s hand latched around your thoart, his palm felt your neck muscles clenching, and unclenching, the steadfast movement of his dick going in and out. “Lemme feel that mouth…” Stack tsking through a moan. Sweat clung to your bodies, half of your face covered by a halo of curls. “Mhmm!” Your body twisted, shaking. Meeting Stack’s lovesick gaze, radiating your lust for them. His dick jumping, twitching inside your mouth.
Smoke pushed Stack a few feet away, he almost thrashed into the headboard but his palm on the wall. Before he could cum for you, by your command. Stack fisting his own dick, grunting loudly. “Here’s a reward, baby..shit..” You poked your tongue, mouth parted wide. Stack’s tip spurted thick spurts of cum white, landing on your titties, stomach, in your mouth. You swallowed, moaned devilishly. “Gonna..cummm!” you cried hopelessly, your breathing grew frantic, still breathing through your nose.
Their mouths released your breasts, yet your hips shoving into Smoke’s fingers, almost knuckle deep. Twisting, and curling his fingers into a ‘come here’ motion. “Eli—pleaseee!” but your choked moans fell on deaf ears, he only wanted you to feel it. His fingers slid out teasingly, he grinned at you with a heated gaze. “I ain't done eatin’ baby,” His tongue darted endlessly, tongue fucking you like you were the last meal. “This lil pussy suckin me in.." Smoke teased, scissoring his fingers over your G-spot. You twitched, and opened with every flick and suck, constantly oozing white cum.
Abruptly, you released, drenching Smoke's face, on his tongue, gulping, devouring your pussy completely as if he could engulf it all in his mouth entirely, "Elijahhhhh!!" your body arched over the mattress, maintaining that. “Can't stop cummin’ sweetheart? Make a mess on me.." he teased, the pad of his thumb tracing the outer shape of your folds, squelching noises. Of course, you couldn't. He was the cause and effect of your climaxes. His tongue flickered across your tight asshole, gliding a wet stripe. “Aahhh! Ughh!” You cried helplessly, nails dug deep into his neck.
You shrieked uncontrollably, stifled groaning, your eyes rolled back, Elijah thought he glimpsed white, while you witnessed stars flickering behind your closed eyelids, vivid colors exploding, whispering his name, sanity slipping away, body quivering, your pussy still emitting white droplets of cum, squirting again. Your body collapsed, chest falling, and rising. “Like how you taste?” Elijah groaned, low, and mean.
Smoke leaned forward, his hand gripped your thoart. Crashing his lips into yours, your mouth parted wide for a dragged-out wild moan, as Smoke shoved his tongue in, tongue wrestling with yours, swapping spit, and your white cum. Before you swallowed, slurping his tongue clean. But Stack’s hand gripped the back of your neck, yanking you away. Stack tongue kissed you deeply, tasting you. “Taste better…real sweet..” Stack praised, his tongue glides across his lip.
The Moore twins ruined you, did more than ravish you. These men were walking catastrophes. You were theirs.
Stack leaned into the headboard, his back cradled by the pillows. His hands held onto your waist, hoisting you up straight. Resting his chin on your shoulder, as you straddle him. “Make a mess on me..” He whispered, his voice deepened. Your pussy slides back, and forth against his thigh. Head fell back, dragging a raspy moan.
Your essence trickles all over his thigh. “You somethin’ else..shit..” Stack groaned raspily, he watched you fucked yourself on his thigh in awe. “Elias..” His teeth sank into his lips, moaning quietly. His thumb circling your clit, pooling his finger with your essence. His digit traced a trail of your essence around your nipples, you shivered. “Fuckkk..need youuuu!”
Stack lifted you, angling his dick at your wet pussy, as he lowered you onto him, you gasped loudly for oxygen once his tip pushing past your swollen folds, fitting every inch in push by push. “All the way down on it..” Stack hissing through it, the curve of his dick hits a certain spot that made you cry helplessly in pleasure. “E—Elias!!! Elias!” His hand latched around your thoart once he was fully inside and forced you to face him, veins pulsating against your slick, soft walls. “I'm fittin’ you right in..” he says, voice raspy, and mean. Your fingers gripped the sheets, for dear life. “Ain’t you tryna get us out yo’ system? Just talkin’ plain ol’ shit..” he taunted once more, and he felt your walls grip him tight.
“Ride this dick..the right way.…” Stack admonishes, your walls clenched around him instantly, as if it were a muscle memory.
By his command, you bounced fast, and ruthlessly. “You like this?” You whispered, tongue trailing along his neck, biting him deep. His eyelids closed shut. Your ass clapped against him, fucking him back as he said yet he smacked your ass again, disapproving. “Harder..” he commands, you bounced harder than you could. Overstimulated. “I—Elias..” your voice desperate. He shook his head, his hands latched around your waist. Your hips rolling, feeling a new sensation, your body buzzing with warmth. “Not enough moanin…” He whispered softly.
Smoke’s fingers pinching your clit mercilessly, you panted, crying softly. Tears falling down your face, your lip poked out. The twins paid that no mind, you were adorable to them. Your essence dampened his fingers entirely, white over brown skin. Rubbing your cum around your ecret brown nipples, you shook uncontrollably. “Elijahhh…Eliass! Ahh!” and Smoke wrapped his mouth around your nipple, licking it clean, tasting you, and fingers twisting your nipple. He moaned in appreciation, sucking it roughly, he gave the left nipple the same treatment..sucking, pinching, playing with them.
Stack opted to push upward, violently. You moaned desperately. “Takin’ too long to ride..” Stack gritted. Smoke’s hands fondle your breasts in teasing circles, and Stack was fucking you like he was molding his dick size in your pussy. Sexually frustrated. Your thighs burned in exhaustion yet you kept going, as his pace sped up, his hips slamming violently. “And I'm doing the fuckin’ for yo’ lil ass..” Stack teased, eyes rolling back. The chokehold of your pussy around his dick made him work for it, drilling into you, grunting your name, beating his climax.
Smoke resumed to play with your boobs, and flicked your throbbing, bruised clit. “Is it that good? You screamin’ like you ain't had dick like this” Stack asks, his hand gripping your jaw, facing him. Smoke let out a loud, wet pop, biting your nipples. “So fuckin good! So good!” These men were fucking the life out of you. Your feral screams rippling from your thoart. Back arched. Pussy bruised. Swollen. Sweaty. Asscheeks covered in their handprints.
You were out fucked by them. “This pussy got magic in it…only takin’ what we give you..” Stack taunted raspily, his hand moved Smoke’s hand out of the way. His digits pinched your nipples. “We wanna hear you say it..” Stack grunted, yet you bounced and he let a groan. Heat pooling through your stomach, you grew tighter, tighter, wetter, desperate. He was still fucking you deep and fast, as if he hated you.
“Say it…”
“Ahh—fuck! I'm yours! Y-you and Elijah!”
You panted out of breath, as Stack gave you long, deep thrusts, fucking you like a beast untamed. Bouncing on him grew useless, when he gave it to you, watching you squirm, cry like a deprived woman of pleasure. “And you gon’ know it every time we around, fuck what folks say..” Stack mumbled, meaning their sister as well. At this point, you didn't give a good goddamn if their sister found out or not. You were theirs, and theirs alone.
Knots in your stomach grew tighter, and tighter, threatening to unravel. Beckoning for a release, your voice, raspy, and low. You could barely scream, but there was still volume. “Ain’t done with’chu..” Stack was still fucking you unforgivingly, while Smoke played with your body, your hands shot out, and gripped Smoke’s shoulders. Stack’s hands slipped under your knees, and bounced you himself. “Ahh! Ahh! Elias!!! Elijah!! I’m gon—!” You begged them, yet those smirks across their faces knew you were close.
“Make a mess..”
You creamed, squirted everywhere all over Stack’s dick, leaving a huge mess on the sheets, while Stack drilled into you fast, fucking you through your climax, while he growled, grunted, and groaned in your ear. “I’m gon fuckin’ ruin you…”Smoke tongue kissed you messily, swapping spit. You moaned through each thrust, bouncing after every time Stack pushed his hips upward. “Already ruined that pussy…” Stack says, caught a pool of cum in his lap, nails marks on his brown skin. Your head fell back against his buff chest, first one to break the kiss. They already ruined you, turned you out, fucked you every which way, and fucked you loose.
Stack shoots his fat load of cum inside you, gritting his teeth, snapping his eyelids shut, seeing stars bursting. “Ahhh! Shittt!” Your mouth parted wide, but no sound came out. The impact of the climax, and rough fucking knocked the wind out of both of you. Stack pulled out fast, yet your mouth opened, as he came onto your tongue. You moaned devilishly, and swallowed quickly. Stack fell over the bed, and panting raspy, heaving, chest falling, and rising.
While you collapsed on the mattress, chest falling, and burned out, blinking away tears.
Smoke’s leaned in, facing you forward. His brows rose in concern, and his hand cradled your face. “One more round for me, baby?” Smoke cooed, his hand latched on your jaw.
You weakly nodded, giggling. He pulled in for a passionate kiss, deep, and slow. Now, it was Smoke’s turn.
His hands held on tight to your waist, flipped you on all fours before sliding his dick in fully. You moaned greedily, wildly as if you were a dying woman. Almost gut-wrenching but in immense pleasure. “Elijahhh!” With that, his hips rolling, deep and slow thrusts, dragging every stroke just to feel the constant twitch, grip of your pussy. “Ain’t enough?” Smoke rasped, gravelly grunting through his teeth, fucking you harder, shoving you across the mattress toward Stack. “I-it’s enough!!! Fuckk!!!” You shrieked, your hands thrashed into the mattress, softly thudding. Smoke’s palm slapped across your ass harshly, the sound echoed in the room and you moaned ferally.
You spoke some sort of gibberish in a slut like moan, softer. Your mouth drooling, eyes half lidded. Stack’s hand gripped your jaw, grinning down at you taunting like a bully. “Look at that face…” he says, in amusement. His thumb traced over your lips, your mouth parted wide, just after he shoved his thumb inside. “Thought you could handle all that..you can’t handle us..” Stack bullied, his smirk menacing. You whimpered patethically “Fuckk..” Your tongue twirled around his thumb, sucking it while your back was blown out by Smoke, he held you down by your waist to keep you still.
“Don’t give much lip when you take dick?” Smoke teased, his voice gravelly. Rutting against you, hitting a spot that Stack couldn't reach. You whimpered in response, and the brothers chuckled darkly. “Definitely don't…” Stack mumbled, a smirk etched on his face. All you could do was let out feral moans, cuss, or say their names in between, and take Smoke’s dick which you knew you could do. Your hair was a mess, mascara running down your face. A beautiful sight to them.
You clawed at Elijah's arm, yet he moved your hand out of the way, pushing his dick in deeper as if it couldn't fit. Your mouth fell open, jaw aching, body still buzzing in heat. You couldn't make noise anymore, lowly moaning. The Moore twins wore you out, until Smoke pulled out immediately.
You interjected, your voice came out in sharp bursts of air, raspy still. Your hand gripped his arm, pulling him back toward you. “N-nooo! Put it back in…” you whined loudly, your lip poked out but Elijah smacked your ass disapprovally.
Smoke turned you on your side, lifting your left leg, hooked tight under his buff arm just after sliding himself back inside, and, you immediately came just from Smoke enetering you alone. Embarrassing. Smoke didn't laugh, only his half hooded gaze down at you. Heat rising in his chest, pushing forward hard, yet slow, and long thrusts. "So fuckin’ greedy..” he says, as if he didn’t have enough your essence on his dick alone. Smoke was a dangerous one, he knew how to talk to a woman in the bedroom. Your head fell back against the pillows, moaning loudly again, clutching at his arm. “Elijahhhh..”
You didn’t want him to stop, but the pleasure he provided drove you to your limit. You felt lightheaded, your vision clouded with tears as your pussy clenching around Smoke’s dick repeatedly with loud, wet noises, the thick white ring around him expanding with each thrust. "You and this lil pussy gon' be the death of us.." Smoke gritted, biting back a rough moan.
He pumped into you unexpectedly, hitting G-spot made you scream crazier, your hans tightening around him in a vice-like grip, wetter than before, your back arching for him, his tip hitting a new spot that Stack couldn't, as the intensity increased to sweet torture yet relentless.
Stack's hand shot out, his fingers rubbed your clit in fast, teasing circles. Your hips undulating, bucking into his fingers while you took Smoke's dick, your eyes snapped shut, stars twinkling, virbant colors brusts. You sighed blissfully at the overstimulation from them, chasing the pleasure, trying to halt your climax. Stack's free hand reaching over, palming your breast, moaning at the pleasure he was giving you, you cried hopelessly. "Ahh! Ahh! E-Elias!!! Elijah!! Fuckk!" Your voice dragged out in soft pleas for more, but how much more could you take? It was driving you insane. Your climax closer than you expected.
"There you go, just cum already. You know you want it.." Stack cooed, taking his fingers from your mouth before biting his thumb. He smirked salaciously at you, and you already bottomed out, body still chasing the sweet relief of the release. “S-so…c-closee!! Ah shit! Right there!!” You wanted to. Desperately. You whined loudly for them, begging for them to keep up. Your jaw dropped, Stack crashed his lips into yours again, and swallowed your moans. You broke the kiss with a gasp for air, eyes shot out at the overwhelming sensation.
“Go on, and cum. You wrapped around my dick like this when you tryin’ so hard not to cum…” Smoke coaxed you on, fully enamored. That voice of his alone made you cum already, he knew what he was doing. His dick jumping, twitching inside you, your walls soft enough for him to slip, and slide easily. You whimpered for dear life, any source of something.
You screamed feral in hopeless pleasure rippling from your thoart, tears falling down your face, losing your voice again. Smoke watches as your pussy clings to him, gushing around his dick. He pumped into you until a guttural moan rippling from his thoart, just after spilling his thick load of cum inside you, fucking through your orgasm.
His hips slowed, halted instantly, pulling out, his cum trailing down your thighs. Smoke groans lowly as he watches. His eyes flickered toward you, his hand cradling your face, loving, careful, and you moan softly at his touch. Your body shaking, twitching. Passionately kissing your lips, peppered soft kisses along your neck, and suction on you collarbone, giving hickeys.
“You good over there, baby?” Stack asked in concern.
“Y-yeah. I just can't move…” You says raspily, chuckling softly.
Smoke & Stack rose up, while pulling up their sweatpants, Smoke lifted you in his arms, and carried you bridal style before he left Stack kissed your temple. “T-thanks, but we have to figure a way to tell your sister.” You says, voice almost nervous.
Stack waved it off. “She’ll be a’ight,” as if it wasn't a major issue.
Honestly, she would have to deal with it, somehow.
“You know she won't be. We fucked her friend.” Smoke chimed in, his voice controlled, and strict.
“Her friend fucked us back, remember? She’s our girl, man. This relationship is genuine.” Stack bragged with a shrug.
Smoke & Stack exchanged concerning looks, before nodding in agreement. “We'll be in the room wit’chu to tell her. Like Stack say, you’re our girl. We gon’ be right there.” Smoke says, his voice held an southren edge.
Smoke prepared a comforting bath for you to relax in while you cleaned up.
The twins swapped out the sheets for fresh ones and requested to use the other two bathrooms for showers, to which you granted permission.
Afterwards, the men took charge of cooking dinner as you moisturized your skin. You shared a meal with them, then readied yourself for sleep.
It was clear that the twins stayed over, a decision you made as you weren't ready for them to leave just yet.
All you had to do was prepare yourself for their baby sister.
