เผโเผ The Secrets To Loving A Black Woman (NSFW Alphabet) โ Elijah โSmokeโ Moore x Black Fem!Y/n
genre: SMUT/somewhat fluff???
warnings: everything, i suppose.
synopsis: nsfw alphabet. duh.
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เผ Smoke is A = Aftercare.
"Come here, girl." Elijah sighs, arm reaching the night table to grab his cigarettes, other arm stretched out, and waiting for your presence by his side. He's utterly satisfied when you take your rightful place beside him, and he can feel your skin against his again.
Y'all could clean up later, right now he just needed to feel the freedom he'd fought like hell for, all with you by his side. "There ya go...That's right." He mutters when you're safely snuggled against his chest, puffing idly on his cig and letting the smoke flow out before pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
Smoke's aftercare usually consists of him smoking a cigarette with you in his arms, if tomorrow might bring more challenges โ He was happy to hold you for tonight. He'd rather bask in the glow than think too much.
เผ Smoke is B = Body Part
"Hold on now, brotha man. I got my eyes on a prize, sho nuff." Smoke pats Stack's chest, a cat's grin on his usually neutral features when his eyes laid on his woman. The belle of the ball; looked good enough to damn near eat, and fuck, those hips.
They get him every damn time; he stalks up to you in measured steps, his hands immediately reaching for your hips when he reaches you, he pulls ya close, his lips hovered above her ear. "Remind me why I let you out the house looking so damn good, darlin'? Because shit, woman, I'm having my regrets."
Your hips. The man is obsessed with your hips; if you're in his presence, you're in his arms, and his hands are gripping your hips like his life depends on em to keep on breathin'. It's no secret that Elijah adores a thick woman; his hands are always restless when he's near you, but they almost always land on your hips. Like it's muscle memory.
เผ Smoke is C = Cum
Smoke has your body memorized like a fucking book. He knows what pace you like it, what rhythm, and just when to snap his hips to make you see stars. He needs to please you, so when he sees the familiar signs, the dance begins. Your eyes are squeezed shut, eyebrows knitted, and legs locked around his waist, but he's gonna change all that. He needs to see your eyes. His hand that's now on your jaw, squeezes gently, and you know exactly what it means; you open your eyes, whimpers, and moans dripping from you like the most beautiful blues Smoke had ever damn heard. He feels his own climax approaching, but he's far too focused on you. "You know what you do to me, mama. Now let me see what I do to you." He whispers, hips snapping up into you, making you scream out his name like he was a God. There's a fucking gleam in his eyes when you start pouring over him like a fountain. He's so focused on you, he barely notices when his seed starts to overflow and drip down your thighs.
Okay, so, Smoke is a pleaser. No one can tell me any different. That's where he derives his own pleasure from, watching you feel good, and even further โ watching you come undone from the pleasure. He wants to see how your eyes look as they glaze over; he wants to hear every moan, whimper, and every breath, but again...He wants to see you come undone. Needs to see your eyes, and if they're closed?
He's getting em back open. Usually with a jaw grip, sometimes a muttered "Open 'em." But he makes sure he sees you, when you cum. It's the quickest way to get him to do the same.
เผ Smoke is D = Dirty Secret
His eyes track you like a tiger as you cook, singing to yourself the music that flowed through the juke joint. You worked hard whilst everyone danced the night away, but that didn't mean you wasn't gone catch a vibe all on your own. Smoke saw the way your hips moved to the beat, the way you danced around that kitchen, and the Lord ain't have no fence strong enough to keep Elijah Moore away from you. "You look like yuh havin' fun over here, girl. Got room for another?" He comes up behind you, hands instantly meeting that golden spot, landing straight on your hips. He pulls you back until you can feel his muscled chest against your curves. "C'mon, boy. Now, you know I have work to do. Who you think gone feed all these people?" You protest with a smile on plump lips, but he's already grinning like a Cheshire, that Elijah. "A lil break ain't gone leave em' niggas famished, beautiful."
You. You are literally that man's dirty secret. He's obsessed with you. I've said it multiple times. You are his addiction. Smoke, as quiet. hard, and protective as he is, is a loverboy. You being who you are turns him on like nothing else. Watching you work is his foreplay.
You're lucky on the days he's able to keep his self-control, otherwise, you'd never get nothing done, always being pulled away.
เผ Smoke is E = Experience
You weren't mad at him, you were pissed. You were pissed that he was back again, and you were pissed that you missed him. Like you always did. Protecting him and that twin of his wherever the wind took them whilst in your shop, too far away for your liking. "That all ya come for? A cook?" Your eyes narrow, jaw ticking; you need the truth from Smoke, nothing but, tired of being left behind. They say they staying, but the Moore twins had been saying that since they left for Chicago. "Whatchu want from me, woman?" Smoke steps back when you finally relax, and your blade ain't on his neck no more. He knows what you want, but he also needs to hear it. You were part of the reason he'd come back in the first place. "The truth, boy. Be honest for once in ya life. It'd do ya some damn goo-." Before you could even get your words fully out, he was on you like white on rice, and you were pressed against the nearest wall, his finger trailing down the wet spot he knew was under that dress. "I ain't never forgot you, mama. I loved you then, woman, and I love you now." He presses you even closer to the wall, his breath hot on your ear, "Feels like you ain't forgot me either."
There's no doubt Smoke is an experienced man; he's smooth, cunning, and charming. Handsome as hell, too. He ain't never had to try to hard to get a lil pussy, but all he really wanted was you. Found himself in your bed every time he'd come visit.
Moth to flame, like clockwork.
เผ Smoke is F = Favorite Position
"Look at her. Look at you, girl. Beautiful, ain't ya? Yeah, I know it." He tugs at your hair, forcing you to look into the mirror at yourself getting fucked into before he moved you over to the bed, and laid you back. He hovers over you, looking into those beautiful e/c eyes of yours; he grips your legs and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, adjusting his position, and grunting softly, sliding back into that soft heat only you seemed to possess. He moves your hair from your face. "God took his time with ya, didn't he...? Goddamn..."
Again, yes, AGAIN! Smoke is obsessed with you, yada yada ya, you get it. But seriously, he is. Any position where he can see your face? He's gonna take that over anything 9/10, whether that be fucking you in front of the mirror or having you under him.
He is so outwardly in love with everything that's you, he'd never be able to take it if he had to hide it.
เผ Smoke is G = Goofy
"I love you, Smoke, oh God, I love you." You whisper into nothingness whilst Elijah fucks into you, his thrusts slow and intimate, something he needed after a rough night, to make love to his woman? Oh, he's more than content. "Say that again fa me, ain't hear ya." His hand is gripping your jaw, eyes staring into yours, and taking in every expression. He knows what you said, but it wasn't gone hurt nobody if he heard it again. Your voice is shaky this time, he's hitting that spot that he knows makes you insane, and he knows exactly what he's doing. He's doing it with proper intent. "F-...fuuck, Elijah, I love you." You just barely get out without soundin like your mama ain't teach ya nothing, but that's still not good enough for him. He's biting back a smile, maybe even a chuckle, repeating himself. "Ion think I heard ya, sum ain't right...I said..." A laugh rumbles within his chest, speeding his pace up, "Say that shit again." This time, though joking, he was also serious. 100%. You knew it, even as you giggled along with him, moaning out a weak, "You're a bastard, Elijah Moore. I love you..."
While I feel Smoke is a tad more serious during the intimate moments, that doesn't mean there isn't humor...sometimes. More often than not, however, he's focused on pleasuring you, talking you through it.
เผ Smoke is H = Hair
I personally feel like both Moore boys are well-groomed. Smoke keeps his beard trimmed, and that means he also keeps his bush trimmed. He believes a well-kept man keeps a happy woman, and so far, you've proved him right, so why change the system?
เผ Smoke is I = Intimacy
Your eyes are kept on one another, one hand intertwined with his as the moon shines in on you. You were smiling tonight, hand on his damn throat, and you were smiling at him. He was stroking you slow tonight too, the after effects of a glass of wine or two, he just needed to feel you soaking him. That's all he fucking needed. His other hand is toying with your clit, and he relishes in the way you seem to seek his hand out like a vice, only forcing your pussy down on him even further; He wasn't complaining, in fact, the way his fingers moved? He was more than encouraging.
Now, as I've said, Smoke is a loverboy and a pleaser, so every moment with him, whether it be sexual or non, is an intimate moment, but if we're talking about sex specifically? He's always gonna be looking in your eyes, holding your hands, gripping you, and making love to you slowly.
On the off chance you catch him in a rougher mood, it's still with a slight gentleness to soothe the pain.
เผ Smoke is J = Jack Off
You were working, it was a busy night at the juke joint, and Smoke knew if he interrupted you right now, he'd be in for a scolding, not that that wouldn't make his problem worse. You made his problem worse. He snuck away to another room, the scent of your perfume clouding his every thought; he closes his eyes, envisioning you whilst his hand wraps around his length, letting out a curse, and grunting as he bucks into his hand, imagining it was the warmth of your welcoming pussy.. He has your handkerchief with him, wrapped around him, and aiding in his pleasure. Afterwards, he'd silently slip it into your hand, letting you know that he'd had enough with waiting.
Elijah really only likes you touching him, but on the off chance that that's not what he can have in that moment, and he has to handle himself? He does so with one of your items, your name on his tongue, and your figure in his mind.
After he cums, he becomes impatient for the real things, and that's usually when you get a cum-stained item of yours handed to you silently, and with nothing more said; the two of you usually slink away.
เผ Smoke is K = Kinks
His thumb presses against your lips, heavily suggesting that you open your mouth to allow him in, his eyes say the very same. When your lips part, his eyes darken, slipping his finger in and immediately probing around, pressing against your tongue, and seeming like he was a hellbent man on a mission, until... Smoke watches the drool finally seep down from your lips and leak down to your chin. He's addicted with the dumb look on your face, eyes glassed over, and pussy clenching down on him like a nice long hug. Fuck, he loved the sight.
Oral fixation. Man loves to look at you, he's addicted to your expressions, and wants to see you go stupid from pleasure. One of his favorite ways is having you suck on his thumb, or seeing your spit connect with his after a kiss, spitting in your mouth, etc.
Anything that had your eyes glazed over, and drool making its way to your chest? He's there for it.
เผ Smoke is L = Location
They'd sent you down to the cellar for more beer, but that ain't matter to Smoke, he'd been eyeing you the entire night, and the man was hungry. When you got down the stairs, he was already there, holding a case of beer. He smiles, grins real wide. "You come get this, come gimme a kiss. C'mon now, girl. Ain't nice to leave a man waiting."
Anywhere. Okay, maybe that's a stretch, some places are off limits but most of the time, he doesn't mind where he can get you...as long as he gets you.
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เผ Smoke is M = Motivations
Again, you were doing absolutely nothin that could've possibly turned Elijah Moore on; sitting there with a book in your hand, ya looked like the picture of perfection to Smoke. Just gorgeous, and it ain't never got no easier to be around you. "Damn precious, gotta stop doing me so wrong." He clutches his chest, moving to sit next to you with his eyes roaming every feature like he hadn't ever seen you before. "Enlighten me, Elijah. Far as I could tell, I was just sitting myself down reading." His hand grips your thigh, and suddenly you're being pulled closer to him without much effort on the soldier's part, unsurprisingly. "That ain't the damn point, mama. Where I'm sittin, looking twice as fine as the finest wine. That ain't right." He slides the book from your hand and tosses it to the table before leaning you back into the couch. "Just ain't quite right..."
We've been over this. Should I write a paragraph for this or just say the word "You", and hope you understand?
There's nothing else that motivates him like you do, just you; he felt it when you were just around him, looking so peaceful, happy, and comfortable. He liked the look of it on you. Hell, he liked the look of you. Just you.
เผ Smoke is N = No
Now, while I feel Elijah can get rough in bed, I feel like one of his biggest Nos is hurting you. He's not big on impact play unless it be something like a light spanking, maybe a little bit of choking, but he worships the ground you walk on, and he wants to keep it that way.
He could never see himself actually harming you; he's much more aroused by the threat of it. The tease. A knife to your thigh in the gentlest manner possible so you're not cut.
He'd consider gun play, after emptying it, of course. Even still. Elijah's hurt people before, it wasn't a pretty sight to see; He sure as hell ain't gonna hurt you, though. Never that.
เผ Smoke is O = Oral
He gripped your hair tightly within his fist, grunting as he gently pulled your mouth away from his dick, the spit shining on those plump lips of yours, spit and precum connecting you to him? Pretty fucking nice sight to behold if Smoke were to tell it, he could die happy. But that ain't what he wanna see. He was much more invested with what lied when you spread those thick ass thighs. You'd gotten used to the way Elijah pressed you back against the bed, and when he looked into your eyes with that glint in em, you knew he was aiming for one thing, and it was always worth the time. He pushed your legs open and smiled like he'd struck gold, and in his eyes, he had. He licked his lips, eyes darkened and blown with lust. "Ya ain't gone run if I take this here pussy from ya, are ya darlin'?"
It's been established that Smoke is a service dom, he wants you pleased and satisfied always, and if he took his own pleasure from it? So be it, but it was all about you.
He could cum in his pants just from sucking your pussy into his mouth, and that taste had him gone each damn time. And don't worry about him stopping after you cum, he's not stopping until he's satisfied that you're satisfied.
เผ Smoke is P = Pace
"How ya want it, baby? Talk to me." He frames it as a question, though you know it's not, he's telling you to speak up, and you know he's petty enough to stop if you don't. "Just...Make love to me." You ain't ever had to tell that man twice; he was ready to fulfill your requests each time. Eager to even. His rhythm slows down drastically, and pretty soon he's set a pace in tune with your goddamned moans, pulling reactions from you he knew how to get when hitting certain spots, exactly when he needed to. He knew your pussy better than it knew itself. "Look at that shit...Gushing like a slut, baby. I ain't never seen nun more beautiful."
เผ Smoke is Q = Quickie
You had 20 minutes before customers started pouring into the juke joint, and shit, Smoke only needed 15 when it came to you; when he pulled you into the backroom, you couldn't say you were complaining much bout it. You knew your husband, he was a stallion in ways that electrified your very being. You flash him that pretty lil smile of yours, and he's all gone. "Slide 'em down, sweetheart. I got 20 minutes to make your body do that shake fa me, and I plan on using my time wisely."
Smoke is an opportunist, he gone take that chance always. If y'all got a couple minutes to get it in, he absolutely doesn't mind trying. He just wants a piece of you at all times.
เผ Smoke is R = Risks
It didn't matter that it was a dark, starless night, that you couldn't see anybody for miles in the distance out that window. All that mattered was the way it made you feel, how taboo it was being bent over in front of a window, the risk of being caught by eyes below. โ It was tantalising, and Elijah couldn't help but tease. "You get off on it, don'tchu darlin? I can feel that pussy squeezing like a vice right now. It get you off knowin anybody can walk past? See you getting fucked nice and slow?" He relishes in the way you spasm around him, his hand around your throat, your back arched, and the prettiest noises he'd ever damned listened to in his ear. "Let 'em see, baby. Let 'em see it all."
It's no secret; neither of the Moore boys was quite shy. In fact, it thrilled Elijah more than anything when he could get you like this anywhere he could. He feels pride in taking you where somebody can see you feeling so good...and all. because. of. him.
เผ Smoke is S = Stamina
He'd finished his cigarette off, ashing it before turning his attention back towards you. He needs to stop looking your way, it's what's gotten ya into this mess in the first place. You still look all beautiful, fucked out and glowing as your pussy leaked with his seed. Goddamn. He feels it in his gut, washing over him like that first glass of scotch. He'll never understand how you have him like a little schoolboy without even trying; four, five rounds and still he was aching for more like he'd never left. Lord knows how he survived when he and Stack were still hitting licks back in Chicago. Now that he didn't have to wait, it seemed his body no longer knew how to. "C'mere, woman, put your lips on mine." He murmurs, a strong hand guides itself to your hip, and pulls you on top of him with little effort. He kept his body right just for moments like these, grinning like a Cheshire, he continues, "Want some more sugar." Your giggle fills his heart with something he hadn't felt in a while. pure unadulterated joy. "You always want some sugar." "Damn right." His hands move to grip your asscheeks, pulling you closer, "Damn fucking right."
When it comes to fucking you, it'd take a group of firefighters to pry Elijah off of you. On a calm night, you might go once or twice, but on those nights? โ Expect him to be insatiable. 4-5 is the goal, and he'll soothe your pussy with his tongue right after.
Again, insatiable.
เผ Smoke is T = Toys
He has you tied up, hands and feet. You can see him rummaging through the drawers in the room until his hand lands on the right items. You hear him whisper to himself, and when he turns around, he wordlessly walks back over to you with a grin on his face. "You won't mind if I go downstairs and talk to my brother for a second, would ya baby? Got a gift for ya." Your eyes tracked him like a lion to prey, only you were the prey, and Smoke was stalking over to you like he'd found a new meal, and it looked quite divine. Wouldn't take him no time at all to get back to ya, but you knew it'd feel like hours; you could hear it vibrating as he inched it towards your entrance, and he wouldn't stop looking at you, scanning your every reaction. "You's a sick man, Elijah." You whisper, your eyes hold no fear or disgust; however, arousal lowering your gaze, he says nothing for a moment, slipping the black vibrator inside you, to his delight, your back arches into his hold, pulling the rope tight with a sweet moan leaving you. He chuckles in satisfaction. "Never claimed to be a good man, darlin'. Ya gone be good, and wait for me?" When she sends a glare his way, he simply grins, "I'm just messing with you, mama. Don't go causing too much trouble now; Ion mind changing the sheets."
Elijah doesn't mind toys...when he's trying to make a point, or gets interrupted. He hates getting interrupted when making you feel good so you're no stranger to him leaving you with a little gift inside you or buzzing against your clit.
He likes how needy, and desperate it makes you when he comes back; your body writhing with the need to cum. He likes watching you fight against your bindings, glaring at him with tears pricking at the edge of your eyes. Yeah, he could get down with a toy or two.
เผ Smoke is U = Unfair
How long had he been staring? Smoke ain't quite know, all he knew was that in the quest to keep you away from him, teach you some patience; he was ultimately torturing himself in kind. He watched you dance across that floor, and decided he couldn't damn take it no more. "Keep your face neutral and keep dancing, sweetheart. I'm just checking something real quick." You'd been frozen against him before his instructions to keep rhythm, the hand that wasn't squeezing her hip traveling up her thigh; she wasn't wearing panties โ Of course, he'd been the one to tell her not to, but it still got him going how bad she could be at his behest. His pretty lil thing. He's got one goal in mind, and when he finds it, his hand tightens round your hip when you gasp, rising to your tiptoes with your chest pressed against the hard planes of his chest; he presses a kiss to your hair, and shushes you, his words whispered in your ear like a lullaby. "Shh, shh, shh...Don't need nobody hearing you. Just need a lil taste." He pulls you even closer to him, tugging his hand away from you when he finds what he's looking for. Makes sure you're looking directly in his eyes when he puts two fingers between his lips, the taste of you on his tongue making him grunt. โ He lets you go. You're breathless as he disappears into that crowd again, the music grows wilder, and there's nothing to do except keep on dancing. Keep on feeling the blues till your face turns too.
Smoke is all about teasing, should be the man's middle name, and while you loved it too, there was a distinct pain in the utter vulnerability in the ways he teased you, but unironically, it was a pain you heavily adored, something you craved.
เผ Smoke is V = Volume
Your nails mark down his back, journeying in a path that stopped when your hands met his ass, pulling him closer and sheathing the man deeper inside your pussy; he stops for just a second, taking a deep breath because you, indeed, had him fucked up. He grunts, taking your hands and pinning them above you before his weight lays into you like a weighted blanket, and he's so deep it has you biting into his shoulder to keep from screaming out his name. He gives you leeway this time, lets you hide your face, too in ecstasy to care much bout anything else; a growl rumbles within his throat, a deep ragged murmur leaving his lips, "Puttin it on me like this...Gone...have my f..ucking babies."
Now, Elijah might not be much of a moaner but he absolutely makes noises, whether it be grunts, groans, the occasional growl, but most importantly...He's the vocal type. Degrading, praising, or talking you through it? Elijah does it all.
He needs you to hear how you're making him feel, very verbally.
เผ Smoke is W = Wild Card
What if Smoke had been turned into a vampire? We already know he's shameless, but walk with me...
The music is once again blaring and the vibes are high, but Smokes eyes are on you, there's hooting and hollering as you begin to step out of that little black dress you wore. His eyes were observant, protective, while he made his way over to you, loosening his tie as he goes; he's smirking. Your thoughts go south, wondering if this is really happening. You'd gotten them all turned once he'd died. When he came back begging to be let in, voice all sweet and southern and smooth talking like he talked, you couldn't resist allowing him in. He'd gone through their friends and family like a man starved, and now it was your turn. The rest start to wake up, reborn of the night, all while he made his way to you like no one else was there. When he gets to you, he sinks down to his knees and slowly spreads your legs. "Imagine, suga... comin back to a show like this. It's gone hurt a lil bit, but think about it...what happens after. It's worth it now. Don't you think, mama?"
เผ Smoke is X = X-ray
I believe Smoke is the more muscled of the twins; he's built and muscular, but in a way that's not too overpowering to look at. He's definitely leaner and a little bigger than his younger twin.
When he takes his shirt off, there's a 6-pack with a well-trimmed happy trail and bush meeting a caramel, lighter brown tipped 8-inch, thick in length. He's more of a grower than a shower, and is definitely uncut, me thinks.
เผ Smoke is Y = Yearning
The end of the night is what Smoke loves best, he loves it best because it's when he finally gets you behind closed door...alone. He ain't gotta worry bout the neighborhood kids, your friends, family, nunnadet. You were finally all his, and he could finally feel you real, and truly honestly sucking him deeper into the gushing pussy he'd been envisioning all day.
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And, finallyโฆ.
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เผ Smoke is Z = Zzz
Honestly, me thinks that you and Smoke lie awake for a little, talking about everything and nothing before even attempting to get any rest. It's when you both debrief and let the outside world go before the morning comes. When he looks at you and sees your eyes shutting is when he knows it's time for bed, but other than that, he absolutely follows your lead on where the night goes after sex.
But that wasn't the best part. The best part was your head on his chest right after, safe and unharmed, and home.
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authors note: welcome back to the fic bakery! so happy you could make it to the reopening. my very first sinners writing and we feel good about this, donโt we? a lil smoke never hurt nobody.
- fatality/bubbles ๐ซง.
