#eternalglitter

When Words Fail | Erik “Killmonger” Stevens

Erik does not speak in riddles. Doesn’t like too much complexity, but he will show you exactly what happens when your words fail.

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Tonight was supposed to be perfect. You and Erik were hosting a barbecue. Everyone was healthy, happy, and freed their schedules just for a chance to be surrounded by the people they loved the most.

Erik’s best friends and their wives and a few of your closest friends and their spouses. This was supposed to be fun. But here you and Erik were on the opposite side of each other not addressing one another.

You two were indifferent since the morning. A small disagreement has now boiled over into the evening. Usually, you’d have time to talk to each other, fuck it out, and be cool again by the next morning. This was different.

Erik had to be up early to barbecue and you had last minute errands to do for your guests’ drink menu. That left no time to address the problem and it was clear by noon that neither of you cared to fix the issue.

The original agreement was to wear cohesive outfits, but Erik decided to dress himself in a plain white shirt with shorts, ignoring your request to match.

Two could play that game.

You’d match him alright. So here you were in a backless white romper with your hair down instead. He didn’t say a word but his stare held weight when you appeared downstairs for the first time.

You were watching something mindless on your phone as you prepared the drinking glasses from the bar. You could smell the salivating scent from the grill airing through the house and sighed. He’d always bring you a piece from the first batch to “taste” it, but you knew that it was just one of his favorite gestures to do.

You hated being into it, but you would not be the one to cave first. He was the one who was short with you. The least he could do is apologize and send a rib inside.

Erik’s eyes burned your skin when you walked past him in your backyard, stepping on your tippy toes to reach for something near the window. He kissed his lips silently but didn’t say anything.

When you gave up and went back inside you weren’t expecting him to put the speaker down for you.

Silently, of course. Stubborn as always.

Your curls could be tighter and you wanted your makeup to last, already knowing that this night would end up with you being drunk under your own roof.

You waited for your curlers to warm as you refreshed your makeup. Pressing powder under your eyes, adding white into your waterline, something that drove that man downstairs crazy.

You lined your lips with your favorite brown lip liner and paired it perfectly with a baby pink gloss. The combo that fueled your confidence. It was also the reason that you were on birth control.

You curled your hair quietly, thinking about how long you two planned this event and sighed.

Erik’s footsteps were louder to your ears than usual. Almost like he was announcing himself before entering your shared bedroom. He found you in the bathroom and just starred. He walked past you, grabbed something from his side of the vanity, but at the last second, almost like he was considering not to, he slapped your ass and walked away.

“Change.”

You jolted forward, bracing yourself on the sink and shook your head. Visually taken back. Change? Right before people started to show up? You considered both sides of the night and muffled a frustrated scream.

Your titties did try to peak through the fabric and the stinging of your ass served as a subtle reminder.

You decided on white shorts with a simple white top. Still you, still matching Erik, and genuinely more comfortable. You hated when he was right.

When you reentered the kitchen you noticed the rib steaming from its place on the counter. An ode from Erik that he was still yours. Still there even when he was upset.

He didn’t look up, but you knew he was waiting for you to crack first.

As guests begin to arrive, you and Erik’s feud was put aside. You hugged all your friends, complimenting their outfits. It was so nice to see everyone and even better to be with each other rather than being at some longue with others.

One of your besties, Lara, softly glanced in Erik’s direction. She turned back to you. “After all these years he’s still obsessed with you.” She laughed, hitting you softly.

A few others laughed too. You looked over your shoulder to see what they were looking at. Your man was holding a conversation with someone’s husband, but his eyes were closed on you.

You shook your head. “Girl enough about me. How’s the new job treating you?”

The small talk continued and the drinks were poured. Everyone groaned over Erik’s food which he greedily accepted.

He sat next to you on your outdoor furniture once everyone started to mingle in one area.

“Man what you put on these ribs?” Rick, Janet’s husband, asked while practically licking his fingers.

“A little bit of everything. Then wifey taste tests for me.” He answered his eyes now focused on your lips.

Your lids fluttered under his gaze so you decided to look elsewhere.

Conversations started to spiral over to different subjects but all you could feel was the tension radiating between you and Erik. You refilled your drink to give you something to do.

You hadn’t heard the exchange between Erik and Rick once you walked away.

“You good?” Rick asked Erik, watching his gaze not leave your body.

“Yeah.” Erik sucked his teeth. You were on your third drink which means you were very close to being too drunk. Erik knew this but you weren’t speaking to him.

“Just be careful. Last time I intervened Janet’s good time we ended up having RJ.” He admitted.

Erik shook his head. “That’s exactly what’s about to happen.” He grumbled half heartedly.

You spoke around Erik all night. Never addressing him directly. “Erik did our lawn so well,” and “Oh yeah my husband bought those for me,” and his favorite “I just show him which color I want and my man makes it happen.” In reference to the newly built deck.

Erik’s hand on your thigh looked normal but you knew it was strategically placed there as a warning.

“How long do you think this can last sweetheart?” He whispered lowly.

When you didn’t respond he just nodded, rubbing small circles on your thighs. He downed the rest of drink before moving. You could hear your own heartbeat thumping loudly in your chest.

“Baby can you get the other cord?” he asked, just for insurance if anyone was paying attention to you.

You nodded, practically running into the side door to enter your home. Erik took his time walking behind you. He enjoyed making you squirm.

You’d barely touched the cord on the counter when Erik’s shadow filled behind you. He didn’t speak right away. He just stood there, watching you fuss with nothing.

Finally, his voice cut through the quiet. “You think I don’t notice?”

Your eyes flicked up, wary. “Notice what?”

He moved closer, slow and deliberate, until your back brushed the counter. His jaw was tight, but his voice was steady.

“You braggin on me, fixing my plate, making it look real sweet for everybody else.” His hand found your hip, squeezing just enough to make you swallow. “But you won’t even look at me when you do it.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it, pressing your lips together.

“I don’t need an audience to know I’m your man.” He leaned down, nose skimming your cheek. “I need you to stop acting like I don’t exist.”

The words hit heavier than his grip. Because he was right — you’d done everything tonight except give him the one thing he wanted most: your voice, your softness, your attention.

“Erik—” you started, but the warning in his eyes stopped you cold.

“Don’t ‘Erik’ me now.” His thumb slid along the curve of your jaw, tilting your face to his. “You’ve been talking around me all day. That stops now.”

“Been watching you all night,” he muttered against your skin.

Before you could answer, his hand slid between your thighs, pushing your shorts aside like they were nothing. Two fingers stroked you slow at first, testing, before entering.

Your gasp was sharp, your hands scrambling for his shoulders.

“Say my name,” he demanded, curling his fingers until your body jolted.

“Erik,” you whimpered, finally giving him what he’d been starving for.

“That’s right.” His lips brushed your jaw, his pace quickening until the wet sounds of his fingers filled the room. “Don’t care if the whole damn neighborhood hear you right now. You don’t ignore me.”

Your moans spilled out in broken pieces, your body trembling against him as his thumb pressed against your clit. You broke fast, quicker than you were ready for, and you came undone on his hand, shuddering against his chest.

Erik didn’t let up until you were sagging against him. Only then did he pull his fingers from you, bringing them to his lips to taste before pressing a slow, possessive kiss against your mouth.

“You hear me now?” voice steady despite the storm he’d just pulled out of you.

You nodded weakly, still catching your breath, and he chuckled. All you heard was satisfied but not finished.

“Good,” he said, setting you gently back on your feet, smoothing your shorts like nothing happened. “Because when they leave..” he left it up to you to imagine.

“Go on and fix that pretty face,” he said softly, thumbing a smudge of gloss from your chin. “Don’t want our guests knowing you’re already out of it.”

Your chest was still heaving when he set you back on your feet. Your legs nearly buckled, and his smirk deepened when you grabbed the counter for balance.

“I’ll head out first,” he added, adjusting his shirt like nothing happened. “Give you a minute to pull yourself together.”

And just like that, he left — casual, unbothered, slipping back through the door with the smell of smoke and ribs following him. You caught a glimpse of him outside, laughing with Rick like he hadn’t just had you gasping on the kitchen counter.

When you finally reappeared, fresh gloss and powder disguising the wreckage on your face, his eyes found you immediately. He didn’t call attention to it, didn’t say a word, but the smile tugging at his lips told you he knew.

The rest of the evening was torture.

His hand on your thigh, his thumb stroking in circles that no one else noticed. The way he leaned close when you refilled your glass, his lips brushing your ear: “Careful, babygirl.”

The glance he gave you when someone complimented your deck again — a look that said, Tell them how you thank me.

Every laugh, every nod to your friends, every bite of food he ate — all of it was normal. But every time his eyes cut to you, you felt the heat of what happened in that kitchen. And the weight of what was coming after everyone left.

When the last pair of tail lights disappeared down the street, and the house fell quiet you were nearly shaking. You leaned against the door for a second, exhaling, trying to will your heartbeat back to normal.

But Erik was already behind you.

“Don’t get comfortable.” His voice was deep, steady, making your skin prickle. “You thought fixing your lip gloss and sitting pretty was gonna get you out of what’s coming?”

You turned, but his hand was already on your throat tight, it made you tilt your head back and force your eyes to his.

“All night I smiled for them,” he said, jaw hard, his thumb stroking the soft spot beneath your chin. “Fed them, laughed with them, played the part. Meanwhile, you…” He smirked, though his eyes were sharp. “You out here testing me.”

“Erik—”

Your voice cracked, and that was all it took for his expression to soften just enough. He leaned down, kissing you slow, swallowing your protest before it could form.

Then his hand dropped from your throat to your waist, and suddenly you were airborne, tossed over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“You had no problem keeping quiet earlier,” he cut in, his hand landing sharp on your ass, making you yelp. “Keep that same energy now.”

By the time he dropped you onto the bed, your cheeks were hot and your eyes stung, though you couldn’t tell if it was from frustration or the fire building in your chest.

Erik stood over you, peeling off his shirt slow, deliberate. The sight stole what little defiance you had left.

“You think you teaching me something,” he said, climbing onto the bed, caging you in with his arms. His lips brushed your temple, deceptively tender. “But I promise you, baby… I’m doing teaching around here.”

And then his mouth was on you again while his hand pushed your shorts down with one smooth tug. He moved quick. No more foreplay, no more monologues. He’s been holding back all day and you needed to feel that.

He slid inside you with a groan, deep and unyielding, forcing your back to arch and your breath to catch in a sob.

“Yeah,” he taunted against your ear, his thrusts slow but punishing. “That’s mine. Every cry, every tear, every breath. Mine.”

Your vision blurred, your body breaking under the weight of him — his pace, his words, the way he never let your eyes slip from his. Tears slipped free, hot down your temples, and Erik kissed them away without losing rhythm.

“Go ahead, let it out,” he coddled, pinning your wrists above your head. “You don’t get to ignore me. You don’t get to pretend I’m not the center of your world. Not when I can make you come apart like this.”

Every thrust drove the truth deeper — into your body, into your bones — until the tension finally shattered and you sobbed his name, breaking against him completely.

Erik didn’t let up until he followed you over the edge, spilling into you with a groan that rattled your chest. He collapsed against you, heavy and warm, his breath ragged against your throat.

When the silence settled, his lips brushed your damp cheek again, softer this time.

ProtectiveBestie! Smoke, Obsessed! Smoke, MadlyInLove! Smoke, Modern! Smoke, StrictDickTooHeavy! Smoke +more

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Ryan has always considered herself to be lucky.

Her current circumstance reinforced that way of thinking. She was rushing out of her room this morning and forgot a very important addition to her workout. Earbuds.

But she had Elijah.

Elijah, who hardly goes by the name, was always there. If she was feeling unwell and he was near then she had cold medicine. If she was cold while they were out, then he handed off his jacket. Elijah was the ultimate fix-it man and Ryan’s very best friend.

“Thank you Elijah.” She smiled warmly at the approaching man. The man who entered her home with his spare key, the one Ryan insisted he have for emergencies, and grabbed her AirPods and brought them to her.

“You shouldn’t even be here.” He grunted, handing off the white case. “Humid. Gon’ get dark real soon.”

“I’ll be fine, father.” She rolled her eyes amusingly. That was Elijah. Always concerned, though it came out grumpy and everlastingly alert.

He sucked his teeth, looked out at the trail surrounding them. “Here’s the deal,” he started.

“You do your laps. I watch. You go home.” He used his hands to solidify his points. No room for negotiation.

“Whatever Eli.” She rolled her eyes playfully, stepping back instinctively.

Elijah, though her best friend, was still handsome in a vintage, one of a kind way. God must’ve loved that, considering the fact that there was two of them running around. Though he went by Smoke when he was running around bossing his brother around.

They made the strongest people melt in their hands. Educated, charming, quick, fit, it was hard to compete with the package that was Stack and Smoke Moore.

Ryan didn’t think of Elijah in that way. He was the best person in her corner though. Dependable, smart, and easy to talk to. Finding a man who was anything like him was the hardest part.

Elijah stepped forward. “Come on you got three laps until the sun sets.”

She scoffed. She should be offended. She should feel like a child who’s been alerted before curfew. But the words in her mouth faded. Her shoulders held no fight and Elijah stood on his thoughts.

He tilted his head almost as if he was trying to read her disapproval but it never came.

“Thanks for bringing my AirPods.” She thanked again before taking off.

Half of mile into her workout she thought the feeling of Elijah would deteriorate. She thought the rap music would override the r&b thoughts she was beginning to have of him.

Elijah’s eyes made it no better. Even from a distance she could see his permanent frown. She didn’t need security yet here he was and he wasn’t leaving.

She skipped to the next song and groaned at the melodic rhythm of Dangerously In Love. That’s not even supposed to be in her gym playlist.

Over a mile in Ryan noticed the clouds begin to close over the sun. Elijah’s curfew surfaced to the front of her head. She was losing her focus, all of her thoughts began to flow to her interactions with Elijah, who was just her best friend.

She missed the brick lying in the path and the way that Elijah’s face dropped when she tripped over it.

Ryan’s chest heaved. The feeling of dirt, sweat, and gravel touching her body was overstimulating. Still she used her hands to dust the debris from her leggings and tried to stand. It wasn’t until that moment that she felt the pain shoot up her legs.

She blinked the tears trying to pool into her eyes and tried again to stand. Elijah was there this time. His thick eyebrows knitted together in disbelief.

He didn’t say anything but his grip on her told it all. He was upset. He let her walk two steps and the way she winced irritated him.

“Elijah.” She gasped when he swooped her into his arms. He only grunted as he carried her from the trail to the direction of parked cars.

“Ryan,” he spoke low, almost intimidatingly so, “Where’s your car?” He shifted her body so that she could look at him, still never letting her feet touch the ground.

“I—um. I walked.” She hesitated, biting her lip. This was infuriating. He was her best friend, her equal, yet he had a way of making her feel so uncertain and small.

“Walked?” He repeated. His tone cool as steel. It was as if he was disgusted by it.

“Yes. I’m going to Mexico next month.” Though he already knew that. Her older sister was celebrating a birthday there.

He didn’t say anything when he slid her body in the passenger side of his truck. He even reached over and buckled the seatbelt.

Ryan swallowed when he rounded the truck. “So you walked because you’re going to Mexico?” Ryan can admit that it did sound dumb when he said it that way.

“Not all of us are naturally fit Elijah.” She mumbled with less humor than she intended. A small insight into why she’d been cooking at home all month and working out so intensely.

“You already slim. What you want to do? Disappear?” Elijah’s tone reeked of disappointment. He was never too concerned with words but with Ryan it all came to him naturally.

Before Ryan could respond, Stack’s name danced over the display screen. Elijah’s fingers, his thick fingers, Ryan blinked repeatedly, jammed the answer button.

“What?” He greeted his brother.

“Still with my Ryan?” Stack teased over the speakers. Though her ankle throbbed, Ryan mustered up a small laugh. Until Elijah glared at her. Her voice died.

Stack whistled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckled. “I was just calling to say that thing is pushed back until further notice.”

Ryan’s mind wandered to what “thing” Stack could be referring to but she’d never know. Elijah never let her into that part of his world. He said the less she knew the better.

Elijah had a way of talking around her. He and Stack could be talking inside of her home and not make a lick of sense to her. They were in sync, spoke in riddles. It was almost sacred.

“Ain’t nothing you should be laughing at right now.” Elijah reprimanded after Stack hung up. “Running after dark, talking crazy, and falling. What’s next?” He rambled.

“I didn’t ask you to come Elijah.” She turned her body towards the window dramatically. “You chose to stay.” She said lower than the other statement, voice less confident.

“I always do.” He was quick, sharp with the response. “Don’t I?” He followed up, glancing at her back facing him.

She didn’t answer. She held her arms folded against her chest and turned deeper towards the window.

“You mad at me for falling?” He asked genuinely confused. “I picked you up.”

“No Elijah. Thank you.” She grumbled sarcastically. Elijah swallowed, tightening the grip on the steering wheel.

They drove in silence. Ryan watched the trees disappear in the distance. Elijah was just thinking how the hell she walked this far and if she thought he’d let her walk back home.

“Ryan, what’s really wrong?” He asked once he pulled into the driveway of her house.

“Nothing Eli. I’m tired and my ankle hurts.” To Elijah’s ears it sounded trained, as if she was thinking on that the entire ride home. No nickname could dress that up.

“Ryan.” He nodded. “It’s me.” Ryan’s eyes teared up but she blinked them away. It’s him. It’s all his fault.

“I just wanna shower Elijah.” She reached for the door handle but she pulled back. Trained and knowing. Elijah would perish if she opened the door before he did.

He never said anything, just exited the truck and walked around to her.

“Look at me.” He demanded. His face softened at her glossy eyes but he kept his composure. “I ain’t leaving. But you already know that.” He started.

“You not gon’ shower with that ankle, you gon’ bathe. You hear me? Then me and you gonna talk. We ordering in so I don’t want to hear nothing.” It was stern. It was truthful. It was Elijah.

The best friend.

Ryan nodded. She reached her hands out, almost child-like, and took advantage of the moment. Elijah licked his lips before clasping her frame around his.

“Brat.” He mumbled but there was no fire to it. He skillfully walked with her, unlocked her front door, and locked it behind them.

Ryan’s bath soothed her mind. The feeling of dirt and sweat made her shiver. She relaxed in the warmth so she let her thoughts drift away.

Elijah was surely rummaging through her things, though he put everything back neatly, deep down she knew that’s how he knew everything.

He knew what she ate the day before, if she stopped somewhere or made an errand, Elijah was like her own personal bodyguard. Her very single, easily annoyed, bodyguard.

“Ry?” Elijah knocked after thirty minutes. “You alright?” He asked. His tone possessed something sweet. It was almost… gentle?

He heard the sound of water swirling. “Y-yes. I’ll be out soon.” Ryan responded quietly from the other side of the door.

“How’s your ankle? Need to be checked out?” He closed his eyes as he waited on her reply.

“I- uh don’t think so. It hurts but I can move it.” She spoke a little louder, trying desperately to hide her uncertainty.

Elijah didn’t respond but she heard his steps descend. She let out the breath that she’d been holding.

She washed the soap from her body before draining the bathtub, watching the bubbles swirl around.

She exited the steamy bathroom in a baby pink towel. It hugged her body, tucked beneath her arms. She hadn’t expected Elijah to still be near.

“Eli!” She shrieked. She hugged her towel tighter as she looked at his unreadable expression.

“Wanted to be near in case your ankle caused you any pain.” He offered as if it was the most painfully obvious thing.

“Always so kind Elijah.” She laughed, still trying to ignore how the droplets of water were evaporating everywhere but the inside of her thighs.

“Now tell me Ryan,” he stepped forward, studying her expression. “Tell me where it hurts.”

Ryan shifted into a fit of collected coughs, desperately trying to mask the undertone that she was imagining. He couldn’t have meant… yeah she was imagining it.

“My ankle.” Though it came raspier than intended. Elijah nodded, unintentionally making her step backward for every step he made forward, repeating until her legs hit the edge of the bed.

She sat down, swallowed her ragged breathing, and looked up at Elijah. He didn’t seem concerned about her nakedness, but she was starting to feel guilty for what was warming up underneath the towel.

Elijah sat next to her, gently reaching for her glistening legs to pull into his lap. Her searched until he seen signs of any contusions. He sighed once he saw the bruising forming around her ankle.

“We gotta get that checked.” His voice low. When he felt her leg tense he immediately comforted her. “It’s probably just a small sprain. Just need it wrapped.”

She nodded. “It feels like it’s throbbing.” She admitted after a moment of silence.

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows. “You gone let me make it better?” He asked almost rhetorically.

She eased her legs back into his lap. He took the chance to apply delicate pressure to her legs, down to her ankle, and eventually her feet.

The tension in Ryan’s body seized. The guard that was standing strong just ten minutes ago already crumbled. It was no faking with Elijah. He knew what she needed and when she needed it.

The sound of the doorbell reminded Elijah of the pizza he ordered not too long ago.

“You get dressed. We’ll bring the food and movies up here. That okay?” He paused in the doorway, eyes only wandering from her legs and below.

“Perfect.” She smiled. She hid the wince until he left the room. Her ankle actually did hurt more than she’d like to admit.

But when you have Elijah Moore tending to all of your needs it’s hard to feel pain.

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My favorite twin. Another Mbj fic. Another submissive reader x dommbjcharacter! Lol

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4 a.m. was the perfect time.

Hands tangled in pastel sheets. Lips biting back the screams threatening to escape. Smoke loved this hour.

He always started slow. Excruciatingly patient, until your chest heaved and you felt small, pathetic. He never asked for you outright—he didn’t need to. The brush of his lips against your bare shoulder in the middle of the night was the only warning you’d ever get.

Shoulders kissed again and again. Lips grazing your throat, never biting, never rushing. Just enough to make your eyes flutter, just enough to have you tilting your neck in silent begging.

“Smoke.”

“Mhmm.”

You tried to close the distance, to steal a kiss, but his arms kept you pinned in place. All you could do was endure his cruelty.

When he finally leaned down to your mouth, the kiss was filthily wicked—warm, deliberate, a game you were destined to lose.

And when a tear slipped free, he kissed it away as though he wasn’t the reason it fell. His pace never changed. Cruel. Steady. The sound of your begging meant nothing. That was what broke you—not his touch, but his refusal to bend. Even angry, Smoke didn’t snap. He drew it out, made you feel every ounce of his patience, every ounce of his control.

The pace stayed merciless. Unchanging. After your second climax, you weren’t sure if you were begging for more or begging for mercy. His eyes half-lidded, watching. Your body hiccupping, lips forming apologies he’d already heard a hundred times.

“P-pleaaseee.”

“Mhmm.”

That same sickening reply. His fingers curled deliberately, milking that spot over and over until your voice cracked.

“Smokeeee!”

But you couldn’t ask to cum. You couldn’t form the words—not when he was tearing every ounce of control away from you. You’d just have to beg for forgiveness.

“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice laced with mockery, a smug smile threatening. “What? You sorry?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I know.”

His head dipped, eyes fixed on the mess around his fingers. He stayed composed, maddeningly so—even when proof of your undoing dripped between his knuckles. He shook his head like he hadn’t just ruined you. Like he wasn’t nearly ready for it to be over.

His baby, teary-eyed under the moonlight. Breathless. Pouted lips. Glimmering mess made only for him.

“What’s the rule?” His first real question all night, sharp enough to cut through your haze.

“Eyes on you.”

“Eyes on me.” He repeated, slower, testing if you’d break again. “You can do that? Or are you gon keep fucking up?”

The first lick to your swollen clit ripped your hips from the sheets, only for him to throw your legs over his shoulders and pin you down with ease. A soft kiss to your thigh—your only warning—before his tongue dragged through you.

You closed your eyes. Only for a second. But Smoke noticed. He always noticed.

His mouth disappeared. Your legs tossed aside.

“I—”

“Stop.”

Your words died instantly. Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. He knew it ate you alive not to know if you’d been forgiven.

“Close your eyes.” His voice softer now, deceptively so. “I got you.”

You obeyed. Anything for him to keep going. Even if you knew that voice was distracting you from what was coming.

The bed dipped. His hands spread you open. Another kiss to your thigh before—

“Open.”

His gaze locked to yours as his lips brushed yours. And then he sank into you, slow and devastating, stretching you open at dawn.

“Shhh. It’s okay. I got you.” His voice soothed even as your body trembled, adjusting to the width. One thing about the quiet ones? They carried their loudness below the belt.

You knew what he was waiting for when his mouth trailed your neck. You nodded, a silent plea for him to move.

And when he did, the calm was gone. Each stroke shattered through restraint, rough enough to fold you in half if he wasn’t holding you so tight.

“Obedience—” his voice broke with a groan as your body curled around him, “is all I ask for.” He folded your legs deeper, hitting that forbidden place until your eyes rolled back.

“That so hard?” His thrusts rattled through you, enough to split you apart.

“NO, DADDY, I’M SORRYYYYY!”

“Mmhmm.”

He loved it. Loved watching you unravel. Loved making sure you’d never forget this.

When he pulled out only to rub himself against your throbbing clit, you cried out again. His composure wavered, just slightly—the tight line of his jaw, the grunt that slipped when he slid back inside with merciless pace.

“You wanna cum, baby?” His words unhinged, cruel.

“Y-yesss,”

“Come on, baby. I’m right there with you.”

He pushed harder, faster, until you shattered around him. Clawing your nails onto his back only encouraged the relentless pressure. Desperate, you used the only weapon you had.

“Cum for me, Daddy.”

His body tensed, eyes daring you to do better.

Your lips shook, but you gave it to him. “Use me Elijah.”

That name destroyed him. His composure gone, his patience splintered. He buried himself deep, gasping, spilling until there was nothing left. You only ever used his real name when you needed to. And it ruined him every time.

Even as the biggest brat alive, you knew your man. You knew when to break him. You knew just when he needed that break and what it’d take for him to fold you up just like this.

“Be back.” He grumbled, already reaching for towels and water. He cleaned you up with steady hands, biting his lip at the sight of your wrecked body.

“Smoke.” You eyed him warily. Body immediately reacting to the hunger in his eyes.

His head dipped. “Just wanna give you a kiss.”

And yet, the towels lay discarded again as he opened your legs wide, lips already trailing back down.

(3) EverMoore | Elijah “Smoke” Moore

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The blaring ringing of Ryan’s phone halted her midday nap. She didn’t glance at the screen before swiping the screen.

“Hello?” Voice groggy, face frowned.

“I’m outside.” Elijah grumbled from the other side of phone. “I texted you.”

“Where’s your key Eli?” She mumbled, wiping the tear from her left eye. Ever since she was a child her eyes would water every time she was jolted awake suddenly. She tried to keep that away from everyone.

“In Stack’s car. I’ll get ‘em later.” He paused. “You okay?” He listened to sheets being thrown back and his breathing evened when he heard her feet paddling to the front door.

“Hey.” She mumbled as she swung the door open.

Elijah sized her up. Taking in the plumpness of her sleepy face, her hair fighting to spill out of the scrunchie, and her pajamas wrinkled as could be.

Beautiful.

“You can go back to sleep. Didn’t mean to wake you up Sleeping Beauty.” He smirked.

“Come on.” She yawned. He stepped in, locked the door and followed Ryan in the familiar direction.

Ryan’s room was decorated in collectables from over the years. Sea shells, limited collaborations, fake plants, and the artwork that she worked diligently on. Soft pink curtains, carpeted floors, large white blanket, but underneath lied the infamous sheets.

Elijah took his shoes off and lined them neatly near hers. Slowly slipped out of the pants he’d been wearing to the layer of shorts underneath. Similarly stripped down to the tank underneath his shirt.

Ryan gulped down a few sips of water before sliding back into the sheets. “You know when you start dating again this’ll looks bad.”

Elijah paused from his hands tying his durag. “What made you say that?” He turned around to look at her.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Just thinking I guess.” She yawned once more.

Elijah entered the bed, usually keeping his distance, but decided to press it further.

“Maybe it’s time for you to stop thinking. Talking crazy again.” his arms folded around her body, shifting her impossibly closer. He tucked his head over hers and he felt the fight leave her body.

She drew small circles around his arms until she gave in to her heavy lids. Elijah’s grip remained strong as he went into deep thought.

When he starts dating again.

He couldn’t remember that last time he was involved with anyone else other than a thoughtless gesture. He’d hold doors open, carry groceries, but he wasn’t taking numbers down. He wasn’t sure when he would want to.

He’d told himself a thousand times that this, whatever this was, didn’t mean anything. That it was just familiarity. Loyalty. Habit.

But familiarity isn’t supposed to make your pulse kick like this when your best friend shifts closer in her sleep.

Ryan’s body fit against him like it had always known where to go.

He swallowed hard and stared up at the faint shadow her ceiling fan cast across the room. He should move his arm. He should put some distance between them before his thoughts went too far.

Time slipped in and out of focus. The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the air vent and the slow cadence of her breathing.

At some point, Elijah’s eyes grew heavy. He told himself he’d stay awake a little longer, just to make sure she didn’t stir or hurt herself again.

But the weight of the day started to pull at him. His arm, once draped protectively around her, began to relax, until he was lying flat on his back, one hand still resting lightly against her hip.

Ryan stirred. A soft noise, something between a sigh and a hum, escaped her lips. She shifted, chasing warmth even in sleep, her cheek brushing against his chest.

Elijah froze.

Her palm rested over his heart now, the steady thump of it echoing between them. Her breath fanned against his shirt, hot and soft, smelling faintly of vanilla and coconut.

He didn’t move. Couldn’t.

If he breathed too loud, it’d break whatever this was, and Elijah didn’t know if he wanted that.

Her weight settled, light but certain, like she’d been sleeping there for years. The sound of her breathing synced with his own until he couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.

His mind whispered all the reasons this shouldn’t happen, the lines they’d drawn, the friendship they’d protected, the history that could crumble under a single mistake.

But his heart didn’t care about any of that.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to look at her, her lips parted against the fabric of his shirt, her brows relaxed.

And for the first time in a long while, Elijah Moore, protector of everyone, let himself rest.

_________________________________

The intimacy between Ryan and Elijah was long forgotten by the time Ryan’s sleep was interrupted.

“Girlll. You better be up!!”

Now the silence that followed was less peaceful.

Elijah was draped over the corner of the couch, one arm stretched along the backrest, the other hand thumbing through his phone. To anyone else, he looked like a man handling business, sharp, detached.

But his focus was a total lie. He was hyper-aware of the floor-length mirror three feet away and the way Ryan’s silhouette kept fracturing the light. He was no better than a moth to a flame.

The black bandage dress clung to Ryan like a second skin, the fabric compressing her curves into a jaw dropping form. Her hair was pulled half-up, half-down, exposing the her neck, the same place where her pulse had been erratic against his chest just a few hours ago.

Every time she shifted to adjust a strap or check her makeup, the dress casually rode up, and Elijah’s thumb would freeze on the screen.

She was already talking crazy, but dressing crazy too? Elijah’s breathing wavered.

He wasn't just watching her; he was completely starring. The way her muscles tensed, the way she looked like a dream he hadn’t quite woken up from yet. It made the "familiarity" he'd spoken to himself feel like a joke.

No, worse. Delusion.

Ryan tried to pivot in the chunky black boots, but her injured ankle buckled just enough to make her breath hitch. She caught herself on the nearby stool, a small wince tightening her features.

Elijah didn’t look away from her aching body, his voice dropping, heavy with a territorial weight. "I hope you know I ain’t letting you go out there and fall all by yourself."

Ryan paused, her hand still hovering over her ankle. "Eli, I’m fine. I just missed my footing—"

"Na." He declared sucking his teeth." You one step away from a full body cast. Imma just drive you there."

"You don't even have clothes!" she countered, gesturing to his joggers and fitted tank top. "You didn’t even put your shirt back on!"

Elijah stood up, the height of him suddenly making the living room feel much smaller. He didn't respond. He just grabbed his keys off the coffee table. "Grab your purse Ry.”

Ryan pouted, a small, frustrated huff escaping her lips, but she didn't fight him. She knew that tone was final. Even though it blurred her understanding of their dynamic, Ryan just didn’t put up much of a fight when he got like that.

Maybe, deep down, underneath dozen layers of denial, rested the truth. She liked when he was stern, especially when it came to decisions concerning her.

Ryan coated herself in one more layer of body spray before resting the bottle near the mirror. She gathered her things and limped toward the door, Elijah trailing a half-step behind her like a shadow. Like he always did.

When they reached his truck, she didn't reach for the handle. She stood by the passenger side, shifting her weight onto her good foot, waiting.

Elijah stepped close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. He reached past her to open the door. He didn't talk, just helped her slide in, his hand lingering on the frame until she was settled.

The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the gaps where words should have been. The quiet music filling in the background noise. He didn't head toward the club; he took the familiar turns toward his building.

When he pulled into his spot, he left the engine running and the AC blowing.

"Five minutes," he said, his eyes meeting hers for a split second before he disappeared into the lobby.

Ryan nodded then swallowed. She hadn’t even thought about telling her friends that Elijah was coming. That Smoke was coming.

True to his word, he was back before the next song on the radio finished. But the man who climbed back into the driver's seat wasn't her best friend who just took a nap with her nap. This was Smoke.

He’d changed into a crisp white tee, perfect fitting denim, not too damn tight nor falling off his ass.

As he settled in, a wave of his scent hit her something dark, and dangerously intoxicating. The familiar cologne forced Ryan to look away. She stared out the side window, but she could still see him in the reflection, the glint of his gold chain, his muscles, those damn muscles.

Elijah shifted the car into gear but didn't pull out. He waited. He turned his head, staring at her until she was forced to meet his gaze. His eyes traveled from her lips up to her eyes, slow and deliberate, before he let out a slow breath and licked his lips.

"Ready?" he asked, the word vibrating in the quiet car.

Ryan nodded, her voice momentarily lost.

"Cool," finally they pulled out toward the neon lights of the city.

_________________________________

Be honest? Is it giving corny? 🌝

@imqueenmelanin @bananajoeclone

@ohshesamonet @imqueenmelanin

@prettypinkprincess29 @cardi-bre91

Elijah Versus Elias

(and sometimes both)

_________________________________

Elijah

• Makes you sit in guilt. Never too loud. Never says he’s upset outright. Just firm and steady responses until you crawling and begging for forgiveness.

• Loves eye contact. Knows you’re lying when you avoid it. Won’t let you cum until you look at him.

• Ironically hates distance. Hates space. After business he’s home to you. Driving? His hand is on your thigh. You take too long doing your hair? Gives you the money to pay a stylist for it the next time. Claims you doing it yourself “take too long.”

• Extremely attentive. You leave a dress out to iron? It’s done when you wake up the next morning. Car needs an oil change? Done before you mention it. That’s just the way he moves.

• Loves the soft pet names you give him. Won’t say anything about it but answers to every “love,” “baby,” “honey.”

• Appreciates a good matching set. He’d hand you his card and tell you to get “those sets you wear for me.”

• Loves pulling hair. Sometimes it’s gentle. He’d help put your hair up if you’re cooking. Sometimes if you’re in the garden. Or when you’re choking around his dick. He’d create a makeshift pony and hold it there for you.

• Retires you early. Hated seeing you working.

• Will trap you if you’re not careful. He’d warn you once, during the very first time, that he likes to paint walls. It was up to you to prevent it. Or not.

•Loves when you’re a brat. It goes against the calm restraint that he puts on, but subtly provoking you showed him how much you cared. He’s a flawed man but he was perfect.

•If he has to repeat himself then run, or get ready to pay up. His stamina is unmatched and overwhelming,

Elias

• Orgasm denial. He lives to see you fall apart. A game not built for you to win. He wants to lose, loves when you can’t hold it so he can tease you. “Aww baby it felt too good?”

• He loves being next to you in water. Doesn’t matter the context. The shower? Perfect. The pool? Fine. A hot tub? Even better. He loves water and loves you enjoying it with him.

• He likes when you cook for him. Buys you cute aprons and gifts you the nicest dishes. His way of showing appreciation for your hardwork. He couldn’t even boil an egg.

• White toe man. Simple, he knows but he can’t help but to follow your every move when you have a freshly done pedicure. He’s paid for every single service since the moment he seen them.

• Will slap you during sex. Not too much to hurt you but enough to redirect your focus. You’d love it though.

• Will watch you pleasure yourself over and over again with drunken eyes. Will tell you when to start and when to stop.

• Very into spanking. Won’t make you count every time but will bend you over the minute you start moving recklessly.

•D1 eater. So good at it that it becomes a punishment.

Elijah + Elias

• Oral fixation. Loves watching you apply lip gloss. Watches you when you bit your lip when you get anxious. Makes you taste yourself on their fingers. Comments on them sometimes but tries to not make it obvious (it is).

• Likes you clean and cute. Not too big on profanity coming from your pretty mouth. Never allowing you to be in drama or fighting. Would kill for you (quite literally).

• Extraordinary instincts. Know what you need even when you don’t ask. Knows when something is bugging you. Hates when you brush off your own feelings thinking you are “too sensitive,” or “doing too much.”

• Will lock you in the house if you try to leave. Though Elijah won’t ever admit it. Stack will gladly fess up to the insanity. “You just needed some time to think. Not leave.” He’d say when he comes back home the next day like he hadn’t prevented you from leaving.

•Lets you think you’re in control (sometimes) until you start to move like you actually are. Go to a party or somewhere without letting him know and watch how fast he finds out where you are.

• Praise kink!! You thank them for anything? Drawls off. You say you appreciate them? Easy. You give a compliment? Suspenders are loosened. Turns them all the way on.

• Never say that they’re ready. It’d just get quiet. Too quiet and when you look up eyes are already on you.

•Loves when you ride. Will sit back when you’re sexually frustrated and watch you work, thrusting up when your legs began to stiffen.

• Spoil you senseless. Elias would say, “No,” then show up with whatever you asked for. Elijah will act like be didn’t pick up on your hints, but followed through every time.

Modern!AU - @erikftglitter’s first work on the main blog. New works are here & works in progress will finish there.

This writing is a little different than my others and the inconsistent way of referring to the twins are intentional. I want Elias/Elijah to feel human, real, vulnerable but Smoke/Stack are guarded, intense, intriguing. So if that name changes so does the atmosphere/environment. Make sense? :)

Aspen ❤️‍🔥

@Asperfect4U

Life’s a movie; here lies the best scenes.

Followed by no one you know.

Elijah started at his iPhone screen for several moments. He touched the screen, just barely enough pressure to commit to a decision, but enough to keep his screen from locking.

One moment he was opening a direct message from his brother, Elias, and now he was stumped by the beauty in the round icon.

Aspen. He liked that. He wondered what made her choose the fiery heart. What made her fierce? Who made her fierce?

He knew that he shouldn’t, especially not publicly, but that intrigued him more. To be attracted to something that he couldn’t have was not usually his style.

Elias was more of that guy. He loved pursuing challenges, he loved easy-mode, skipping the plot and going straight to action, but his favorite was women obsessed with him. Elijah shuddered at the thought of Stack’s current girlfriend. If Stack told her to set herself on fire then she would drink the gasoline and buy a heart shaped lighter. He had it like that.

But Smoke? His preference in women was completely different than his brother’s taste. Smoke was his name to just about everyone. With the exception of Stack, everyone who knew him as Elijah was long gone and he didn’t see that changing.

Despite the identical traits they just weren’t attracted to the same things. This made life easier. More consistent for the both of them.

If Stack chose salty then Smoke chose sweet. If Stack wore red then Smoke wore blue. It’s just how they were. Smoke could brush it off as a difference of opinion, but Elijah knew that there was a legitimate reason for the decisions that they made, but he liked to smoke away that reminder.

Daddy never chose Elias. Maybe because raising twins was too much. Maybe because Elias was born last. Either way, the resentment showed — and Elijah saw it long before Elias could name it. He could only take so much.

His brother, his other half, was no mistake. The creation of twins weren’t a curse and he’d be damned before anyone let his brother feel that way. He assumed responsibility for him by the age of eleven after daddy died. That’s just the way it’s been.

Elias got first call at everything. Sometimes Smoke would even let him win. He tried his best to erase the brutality that only they knew about when Ma did shifts overnight.

But he knew that Stack harbored that resentment in the back of his mind. He knew that his preference in obsessive women filled a void. He knew that his baby brother just wanted to feel…. wanted. He also knew that he was partially responsible for Stack being as reckless as he had been.

Smoke was always there to protect him from whatever he had done. Always overcompensating for the pain that daddy inflicted onto them. They play oblivious but Stack respected his brother’s actions. His protection. Someone wouldn’t mind talking crazy to Stack, but thought of taking on Smoke always made them take the high road.

So as sure as Smoke sounds, something in Elijah was hesitant deep down. This was not his lane. He didn’t flirt via social media. He didn’t watch women on the internet. He’s a real man and met women in real life.

But in a matter of seconds he couldn’t stop himself from viewing her stories from his personal account. The worst part is that he didn’t care. She had his attention. In a world of too much access that was rare.

I know what you're thinkin'

(I know what you're thinkin')

It's alright (can you feel me? Yeah)

It's alright, yes (ooh, baby)

♫ Now Playing: Read Your Mind - Avant ♫

The song was paired with a photo of who he assumes to be Aspen. She looked beautiful, stunning actually. Dressed in a fitted black top that revealed a small amount of cleavage. She had appeal that wasn’t inherently sexual. She looked like she didn’t need to try. The red lipstick intrigued him more.

He had a thing for the signature look.

He would have missed the subtle “v-day archives,” if it wasn’t for his finger holding the story down, pausing it to observe every inch of the frame. He knew what he was looking for. He didn’t use the platform often but he knew how women insinuated relationships. A shoe, a watch, a finger even, but the picture gave nothing.

She the type to have a man, he thought to himself. That was until the next story contradicted it all.

“Yes traditional women still exist & yes we want a traditional man.”

It was reposted, not her words, but it hit like they were. Against better judgment, he liked the story. Then followed the account.

To want what he couldn’t have.

“I need to smoke.” He grumbled.

He slid his phone into his pocket. He scanned his room for the tin that his brother dropped off earlier. A tin full of pre-rolls - rolled by the master himself.

Smoke couldn’t roll for himself. His hand had a small tremor despite his heavy efforts to diminish it. It didn’t attract attention, but years of training allowed him to be a little more controlled, a little bit more protected.

If you were intimidated by him, when would you have the courage to stare at him long enough to notice it? You wouldn’t and he knew that. Stack knew it too. He’d iron his brother’s clothes, cut his hair, and of course roll up when he knew that he couldn’t. All unspoken. That’s just how they were.

Stack asked him about it once. Smoke said that he was born with it. Stack didn’t ask again. He just noted that this was probably the only lie that Smoke told him and he was okay with it. It was easier to accept Smoke’s reality than to admit that he knew that Smoke had only developed that tremor in sixth grade when they were 11 and when daddy died.

The familiar feeling eased Smoke’s mind. He wasn’t thinking about daddy anymore and that’s all he wanted to do; forget about him and his treatment towards him. His tremor intensified but he closed his eyes and dropped his head, thinking of no one but the most high.

"The LORD examines the righteous, but the wicked, those who love violence, he hates with a passion."

He repeated it, just as he did in Sunday school many moons ago, and his body lost some of its ambition to keep him trembling. With a couple more drags he ashed the joint out.

The vibration of cell phone reminded him of his previous actions.

@Aspen ❤️‍🔥

@Asperfect4U followed you back!

The small satisfactory smile was the closest thing he’d do to celebrate. This was just the beginning.

_______

Aspen stared at her reflection. Her face was slightly swollen from crying. Another situationship. Another heartache. Another waste of time.

She was at war with her mind and her biological clock. She longed for a genuine connection but was receptive to the fact that it just wasn’t her time. She carried her boundaries well. That strictness got dudes gone the first time that they messed up.

She didn’t post while she was emotional. She didn’t tweet for his attention. She didn’t post songs that aligned with their situation. She was better than that. She simply moved on and lived as if they never existed and that hurt the most. Especially when they did exist and they caused real damage.

She cried in private, expressed discontent with her closest friends, but she would never let a man get a reaction out of her. Not when she built herself up when she was broken. Not when she had accomplished so much.

She was still fine as fuck though. The world deserved to see her again. It was the digital camera that reminded her of the Valentine’s Day photos. Mr. Disappointment played ghost that night, sending her flowers and chocolate in the morning, but failing to come through with a dinner.

So she went to dinner with Adrienne and forgot all about him. Two months later and he still rang her line, hoping for just one more chance. One that he had and fucked up.

Aspen thought about which song matched the vibe of her picture. Something seductive but not vulgar. Something spicy but not super suggestive. R&B was the way to go.

As she scrolled through the list, lyrics of Read Your Mind looped in her head. That was the one. She giggled to herself once she found the perfect part.

“I look good.” She smiled. And it wasn’t for him.

That was a few hours ago. She’d got trapped in a binge watching session of one of her favorite shows. She’d forgotten all about the Instagram story.

She was about to open the app but received a text message at the same time, unintentionally clicking the message open.

+ (223)-412-2541

Guess you moved on huh?

A new number, the same man. Aspen sighed. D1 athletes were now on her shit list.

She was curious about this particular message though. Usually he was trying to sell her a dream. Headstrong about not giving up. So what was with this declaration? Had she finally ignored him enough? Thank Goodness.

She saw the notification but she still ignored it. That hadn’t said what she thought it did so she ignored it. There was no way. It had to be a spam account posing in someone else’s place.

She scrolled through her explore page. Wellness accounts, university students, beauty tutorials, and countless advertisements. She was ready to exit the app but a post caught her attention.

“Yes traditional women still exist & yes we want a traditional man.”

A monogamous relationship was a scarcity in today’s society. She liked the quote and reposted it. This time she didn’t ignore the notification.

@smok3yvision liked your story!

@smok3yvision followed you!

The blue verification check followed the username. Smoke Moore just liked her post. Smoke Moore AKA @smok3yvision, co-founder of Moore Entertainment is checking for her.

Yeah D1 athletes are so over. She followed Smoke back but not before throwing a celebratory twerk in bed.

..I can read your mind babe

I can tell what you’re thinking..

(10) Girl, you know the drill, don't ask no questions, you already know..

♫ Now Playing: U Already Know - 112

a certified baby maker.

_________________________________

The bass thumped heavy in the club, neon lights cutting across bodies as Stack stood in his section, gold chain catching every flash of light. A bottle sat half-drained in front of him, phone buzzing in his pocket, but his attention sharpened when a figure pushed through the crowd with intent.

Dominick Reed - Lakers Shooting Forward

DJ.

The shooting forward’s frame was impossible to miss, broad shoulders, practiced confidence that screamed I know who I am. He stopped right in front of Stack, eyes hard, jaw set.

“Smoke,” DJ called, tone low but tight. “We need to talk.” His crew settled behind him.

Stack turned his head slowly, sipping from his glass before setting it down. His grin spread wide, he loved when this happened. Occasionally he and Smoke got mistaken for one another, not a big deal, but this?

This was his time to be an all star troll.

“You sure about that?” he asked, voice slick.

DJ ignored the deflection. “You know Aspen? Cause that’s forever my b—“

Stack tilted his head back and laughed. Loud, sharp, cutting. People nearby glanced over. This was better than he thought. Miss Miami was making niggas sweat in the club? He needed to meet her now.

“Oh, you bold,” Stack smiled, grill flashing. He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough to sting, humor depleted. “Boy, I’ll make sure that ACL never works again if you ever pop up like this again talking crazy.”

The words hung in the air. DJ’s face hardened, but he stepped back, breathing slow, forcing himself to take the high road. The Moore twins weren’t like most industry executives, they had a very questionable reputation that made people leave them the fuck alone.

Stack smirked, finishing his drink. “Now enjoy your night, baller. You got the wrong twin. I ain’t even Smoke.”

“This Stack playboy.” All thirty two glimmering in the low light.

For a beat, DJ just stared. Processing. Embarrassment flickered in his eyes before he muttered, “I had too much to drink.”

“Yeah,” Stack said, dismissive, turning his back from him. “I think so too.” He didn’t even bother to look at DJ again.

DJ exhaled, jaw tight, and walked off through the crowd, shoulders tense.

Mad Ass.

_________________________________

Stack tried to continue his night. His section was full of people, and the drinks being poured numbed his feelings. Tori miscarried and part of him blamed himself. Daddy always told himself he was bad luck.

He rubbed his face, adjusting his shades to keep his composure. DJ blew his high and he was reminded of who he should’ve been with in the first place.

His brother.

He quietly slipped out of the club, walked strategically to his tinted truck, and scrolled through his phone. He sat in his locked vehicle in silence as he searched for Elijah’s name. He hit FaceTime.

Smoke answered, dark background behind him. His voice groggy how it usually was when he woke up.

“Man we ten years old today and you ain’t out here celebrating.” Stack laughed at his brother who rubbed his tired eyes.

“Nigga sleep at 11PM. How lame.” He teased. Smoke sighed but Stack heard the sheets rustling signaling that he was getting out of bed.

Smoke closed the door to the extra bedroom gently, sure to not wake Aspen up. His body begged him to go back to sleep and cradle her, but he humored his brother.

“We got that brunch. You know I ain’t going to no damn club Stack.” He breathed, his face appearing in the low light of the night peeking through the window.

“Yeah yeah I know…. Why you in bed at 11 Elijah?” Stack’s eyes lowered. When he was met with silence he let out a deep chuckle. “I was actually calling you about her.”

Smoke’s eyes narrowed. “You calling me about my girl?”

Stack tried to hide his grin, “Your girl? When y’all get back cool?”

“Elias get to the point.” He urged, his fist already clinched, desperately trying to stop his tremor from spreading worse.

“Guess who I ran into tonight?” Stack started, grin still plastered on his face.

Smoke didn’t answer, just waited, that silence that demanded the truth.

“DJ,” Stack said, smirking. “Thought I was you. Tried to check me about Aspen.”

For the first time, Stack noticed how still his twin went on the screen. Eyes low, jaw set.

“Chill, I handled it,” Stack added quickly, shrugging. “Told him he had the wrong Moore. But man he was pressed..”

There was a pause. Heavy. Smoke’s voice finally came through, low, gravel-edged.

“He say anything else?” Smoke questioned, reaching for a bottle of water.

“Na. Told his ass to find something safe to do.” Stack shrugged. “You knew they had a thing going on?”

“I don’t ask questions about what I don’t care about.”

They exchanged a few more words before Smoke ended the call. Off to bed with his girl. The girl he just put to sleep.

Fuck what DJ talking about.

_________________________________

The sunlight cut through the blinds in lazy stripes, landing on the mess of sheets tangled around Aspen’s legs.

Her eyes blinked open slowly, the warmth of the morning competing with a dull ache in her body. She groaned, stretching, and winced halfway through.

“Everything hurtsss,” she muttered into the pillow.

From somewhere near the window, a low chuckle answered. “That a complaint?”

Aspen turned her head. Elijah stood there, basketball shorts hanging low, coffee mug in hand, watching her with that steady, unreadable calm that always made her heart beat faster.

“I’m not complaining,” she said, voice scratchy. “I’m saying my body hurtsss.”

He took a sip of his coffee, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You begged me to do it.”

She threw him a look. “That didn’t mean I didn’t want to walk again

He crossed to the bed, setting the mug down on her nightstand. “You deserve a day off.”

Aspen frowned, pushing herself up on her elbows. “A day off from what? What you talking about Elijah?”

Elijah reached into his pocket and laid a small envelope beside her. “Go get a massage, a pedicure, something nice. Take ya friend.”

Her brows lifted. “You suggesting I let strangers touch me?”

He shrugged lightly, the smirk still playing at his mouth. “Better them than me. I’m gone make it worse.”

Aspen squinted at him, trying not to smile. “You’re not funny.”

He leaned down just enough that his voice brushed against her skin. “I wasn’t joking.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the warmth that crept up her neck. “You always this bossy after… celebrating?”

“Only for you.” He straightened, grabbing his mug again.

“I’ll help you up. Don’t want these bruises turning ugly.”

“Bruises?” she echoed, searching her body.

“You sweet as a peach, but ya bruise just as easily.”

Aspen laughed, mostly out of shock, Elijah’s aftercare was something else.

“Give me a kiss first.” She smiled softly at him. He sighed, though it held no fight, leaned down and kissed her slowly.

_________________________________

Aspen stayed in bed for another ten minutes, staring at the ceiling. Elijah was in the shower and she still couldn’t find the motivation to move.

She glanced at the envelope Elijah placed in her hand. The spa logo was embossed in gold, the receipt neatly tucked inside — two appointments, prepaid, no note.

Typical Elijah. No explanation, just quiet direction.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and drafted a text to Adrienne.

you busy today?

Adrienne replied instantly, as always.

“Depends who’s asking!”

your sore, half-dead best friend.

“Sounds like somebodyyyy had a night 👀”

Just know I can’t move but pick you up in an hour?

“ooooh we’re doing rich girl errands today im getting out of bed now”

Aspen smiled to herself, setting the phone down. She moved slow getting ready, it’s not like she could move any faster. A hot shower, light makeup, and a matching set later she was ready to go.

Elijah kissed her before she had time to make it downstairs. He moved quickly, not rushed but definitely intentional. Leaving just a mug in the sink and his car flying out the driveway.

An hour later, Adrienne’s voice boomed through the the speaker in Aspen’s car. “Be right there!”

Adrienne wore a cute white dress with her hair pineappled on top of her head. As soon as she entered Aspen’s car she laughed.

“Giiiirl. Spill it!”

Aspen handed her the spa envelope. “Said I needed a day off.”

Adrienne grinned like she knew exactly what that meant. “Oh, he definitely did something to make you need one.”

Aspen rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. “Please stop.”

“Just one more question. Was it heavy?” She bit her lip, hiding her laugh.

“It was huge, Adri. Huge.” Aspen sighed dramatically. “Then he was all smug the next morning full of energy.”

“Told you that man wasn’t playing with you!” She cackled. “Finally! I’m glad he didn’t let you push him away.”

Aspen started to drive to the direction of the spa. She thought for a moment, “Yeah. Me too.”

When they arrived at the spa, marble floors, soft music, and white robes, she couldn’t stop thinking about the quiet way Elijah had spoken that morning. You need a day off.

It was gentle, but it also felt like he’d planned it long before she woke up.

Later, as they sat with cucumbers over their eyes and warm towels on their feet, Adrienne’s phone buzzed with a notification. She peeked at the screen and suddenly froze.

“Uh… girl.”

Aspen lifted the towel slightly. “What?”

Adrienne turned the phone toward her. It was a sports update — a photo from courtside.

Smoke and Stack, side by side at DJ’s game. Front row. Smiling for cameras like it was nothing.

Adrienne’s brows shot up. “You seen this?”

Aspen stared, the breath catching in her throat for half a beat. Then she set her towel back down, eyes on the ceiling.

“I’ve seen enough.”

She didn’t text Elijah about it.

She didn’t need to.

Something about the way he moved that morning suddenly made perfect sense.

He was marking his territory. She didn’t know if she was flattered or irritated.

“Excuse me? Can we please have more champagne.” Aspen asked from behind the towel, not bothering to remove it this time.

“Yes, coming right up.” The masseuse moved quickly.

_________________________________

The energy in the arena was alive, camera flashes, the bass of the speakers vibrating through the floor, sneakers squeaking against the polished court.

Smoke sat stone-still, black shirt, expensive pants, one arm resting across his leg. Stack, on the other hand, was in his usual element, chain glinting, grin sharp, waving to people in the stands who shouted their names.

“You know you’re a menace, right?” Stack muttered, leaning toward his brother.

Smoke didn’t look away from the game. “You talk too much.”

Stack laughed, biting into a handful of popcorn. “I’m just saying. You could’ve picked any game to sit front row. Why this one?”

Smoke’s jaw flexed, the faintest twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Building rapport.”

At halftime, a few players came over, quick daps, light conversation for the cameras. Stack played along, snapping a picture or two, while Smoke’s eyes tracked every movement on the court.

Then DJ jogged past. He locked eyes with Smoke instantly.

For half a second, he stopped mid-stride. His expression faltered just enough for Stack to notice. That was all it took.

Stack leaned back in his seat, watching DJ retreat to the tunnel. “And everybody thinks I’m the crazy one.”

Smoke sipped his water, eyes never leaving the court. “I didn’t say a word.”

“Didn’t have to,” Stack said, laughing. “Presence talks.”

When the buzzer sounded and the crowd erupted, both men stood. Cameras flashed again, twin silhouettes, clean, powerful, impossible to miss.

As they made their way toward the exit, Stack nudged him lightly. “How you explaining yourself out of this one? Where she at anyway?”

Smoke finally glanced at him, eyes unreadable. “Told her to buy something nice after her massage. So hopefully, shopping.”

Stack gave a short laugh. “You planned it all out. Huh?”

Smoke’s gaze lingered on the court one last time. “I always have a plan.”

“Don’t tell her it was my idea. I want to meet her on good terms.” Stack’s put his hands up. “When you bringing her around?”

“I don’t meet half of your girlfriends.” Smoke’s brows shifted in annoyance.

“‘Cause most of them weren’t my girlfriends dumbass,” he mocked. “You actually fuck with this girl. I wanna meet her.”

“Alright I’ll set something up. Just give me a minute.” And with a handshake and hug, the brothers separated.

_________________________________

The house was mostly dark when Aspen stepped inside, the faint glow of recessed lights stretching across the floor.

She’d spent the afternoon unwinding, but her mind never quite stilled. The image of Elijah and Elias courtside played behind her eyes like a looped clip. He hadn’t texted, hadn’t said where he was going.

He was sitting on the couch when she found him. Black hoodie, gray sweats, a glass of whiskey resting on his thigh. TV low, volume barely audible.

“Hey,” she said softly.

He looked up, eyes taking her in, her hair pulled back, his hoodie draped over her matching set. His gaze lingered just long enough for her to feel it.

“How was the spa?” he asked, voice low, steady.

“Relaxing,” she said, moving closer. “Didn’t know self-care came with a receipt and a schedule.”

That earned a small smirk from him. “You needed it.”

She hesitated, standing in front of him. “You didn’t tell me you were going to the game.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t break eye contact. “Wasn’t a big deal.”

Her brows lifted slightly. “For someone else it probably was. Huh?”

That made him pause. He set the glass down on the table, then leaned back. “You looked it up?”

Aspen folded her arms, tone careful. “Adrienne showed me. You and Elias weren’t exactly hard to miss.”

A long silence settled between them, heavy but not hostile. He didn’t try to defend himself.

Finally, she sighed. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Elijah’s eyes lifted to hers, the faintest glint of truth in them. “I did what I wanted.”

Aspen’s heartbeat ticked faster, irritation tangled with warmth and something that felt dangerously close to pride.

“Do you ever not control a situation?” she asked quietly.

He leaned forward then, elbows on his knees, the space between them charged. “When it comes to my heart? No.”

That silenced her.

Elijah reached out, sliding a hand along her thigh, pulling her just close enough to stand between his knees. “You mad at me?”

“I’m still thinking about it,” she said honestly.

His lips brushed the inside of her wrist, voice low. “Mhm lie better.”

She exhaled, fighting the way that his possession betrayed her usual logic. “You’re annoying.”

He stood, his body closing the distance between them effortlessly. “And you like annoying.”

She didn’t argue.

Instead, she let him roam. His hands found her hips, grounding her in that quiet way of his, no rush, no words. Just presence.

They didn’t talk about the game again.

Elijah made his claim publicly, or at least to DJ.

By the time he guided her to the couch and pulled her into him, the only thing that mattered was the weight of his arm around her and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under her cheek.

“What you buy?” He asked glancing at the shopping bags she left at the front door.

“Just a few outfits.” She shrugged, not expecting his grip to tighten.

“Any dresses in there? He inquired, voice low. She could feel the fire in his words.

“No baby. No dresses.” She nuzzled into him further, not in the mood to argue.

Smoke grunted at that, making Aspen shift closer, if possible, to him.

“Good.”

_________________________________

Welcome back to the renaissance. 

@thefutureemmywinner

@coldeforprez

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@bananajoeclone @mayday39 @tafuller

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Either classy or casual. No in between.

an ongoing reference.

Elias “Stack” Moore 💋

I always imagine Stack to have more hair than Smoke idk.