ִ ࣪𖤐 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ִ ࣪𖤐
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ➤ Elijah “Smoke” Moore
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ➤ on your birthday, Elijah “Smoke” Moore gives you more than gifts — he gives you all of him. after months of a slow, tender relationship, tonight’s the night you finally give yourself to him for the first time.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ➤ oh my goodness, first post on here and it’s about Sinners? am i too late?? also i’ve made one with Stack, SAME IDEA! so i’ll post it as well. enjoy!
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ➤ 7.4k
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ➤ sexual content, virginity loss, submission, intense dominance, degradation (light, experimental), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dumbification, choking kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, multiple rounds, oral sex (reader receiving), missionary, backshots, body worship, aftercare, and modern au. 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓! 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃!
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your birthday always felt quiet. not lonely — just… still. like the world knew how to slow down just for you. the air had that weightless hum to it, a softness only june could give, and for the first time in a long time, you weren’t spending it alone.
this year, you had him.
elijah moore.
the one people called “smoke” — not just ‘cause of how he moved but ‘cause of what followed after. heat. tension. silence that filled the space like fog.
but not with you.
with you, he made noise in his own way. not loud. not boastful. but he stayed close. remembered things you forgot you told him. touched you like he meant it. and that meant something, especially from a man who spoke more with his eyes than his mouth.
you’d been with him for some months now — the kind of months that don’t pass like time, but like warmth. like heat lingering in the air after he kissed you, or the way his thumb would press into your lower back when y’all walked into a room. nothing over the top. just enough to feel it, deep.
you never said it out loud, but he already knew — you’d never been with anyone before. not all the way.
you weren’t scared of him. no, not even a little. it was everyone else you didn’t trust. the boys who only wanted what you wouldn’t give. but smoke… he waited. he watched. and when he looked at you, you could feel it — the way he undressed you without ever reaching for your clothes.
he never pushed. never asked.
until tonight.
you didn’t know what to expect when you walked through the door of his apartment.
you’d just come back from dinner. quiet place, low lighting, some jazz humming from the walls like background static. he let you talk most of the night, just watched you sip slow from your glass, his hand draped behind you on the booth like he didn’t wanna crowd you but still needed to be close.
you didn’t notice how tightly you’d held his hand until he pulled you inside with him.
the apartment smelled like something clean and faintly musky — like the cologne he pressed behind his throat and the fresh laundry you helped him fold last sunday, all mixed together.
“sit,” he said low, nodding toward the couch.
you blinked. “you makin’ me nervous.”
a smirk curved on the side of his mouth, slow, like smoke curling off a match. “good.”
you sat. not ‘cause he told you to — ‘cause the way he said it felt final. warm. like a promise.
he stepped away, back into the bedroom for a second.
you glanced around, trying to pretend like your heart wasn’t racing.
you could still taste the sweetness of the strawberry glaze from dessert on your tongue. still felt the weight of his eyes from across the booth, his thumb brushing soft against your thigh under the table.
and then he returned.
a black box in one hand. a single rose in the other.
he placed the rose gently in your lap, then kneeled down in front of you, opening the box with careful fingers.
inside:
a necklace — gold, dainty, thin, like it belonged to the skin more than around it. a small charm hung from it: the letter E.
you looked down at him, breath caught in your throat.
he didn’t smile, but his eyes softened.
“you mine,” he said, fingers brushing your collarbone as he lifted the chain. “this just make it official.”
you nodded before you could even think.
he leaned in, fast but gentle, lips brushing the corner of your mouth like he was still asking permission. your chest tightened. your thighs pressed together on instinct.
“that ain’t even the real gift,” he murmured, voice dragging low against your ear.
you swallowed hard. “then what is?”
his lips ghosted your cheek, a single breath before he stood again.
“come find out.”
your breath hitched the second you stepped into the bedroom.
candles, flickering low on the nightstand and dresser. sheets pulled back neat.
music hummin’ from the speaker in the corner, slow and sensual, bass steady like a heartbeat.
you turned to him, heart in your throat.
“elijah…”
he just looked at you, slow and sure. didn’t say a word. but his hands reached for your waist, and you let him touch you.
his fingers ghosted over the hem of your dress, dragging slow, eyes locked on yours like he was waiting for you to run.
but you didn’t.
you lifted your arms.
he pulled it over your head.
stood still for a second, breathing you in like something sacred.
you shivered. not ‘cause you were cold — ‘cause of how warm his hands were when they touched your skin.
he leaned down and kissed your shoulder.
then your collarbone.
then the curve of your neck.
he didn’t rush. he just let it build.
slow. soft.
like he was unwrapping a gift, not undressing a body.
you didn’t speak — couldn’t.
not when elijah was lookin’ at you like that.
your body was bare, barely lit by the warm flicker of candlelight. he hadn’t said much, but he didn’t need to. his silence was weighty. heavy with all the things you were finally ready for, and all the things he already knew.
his hand slid behind your neck. thick fingers curling gentle under your hair. your skin prickled under his touch, chest rising slow as he leaned in.
“you sure?”
his voice was low. like gravel. like smoke rising up from heat that never quite burned out.
you nodded. “i’m sure.”
he didn’t move at first. just stared at you — his thumb pressed to your jaw, lips barely apart like he was breathin’ in every inch of you.
“aight,” he said under his breath, kissing you soft. “then i’ma take my time.”
his mouth dropped to your neck again, this time lingering. tongue warm, breath hotter. he kissed slow, deep, like each part of you deserved to be remembered.
you whimpered the first time his lips grazed the top of your chest.
“sound like that again,” he muttered into your skin, one hand cupping your breast with just enough pressure to make your back arch. “i like that.”
your fingers tightened in the sheets behind you.
his tongue slid over your nipple, slow, then sucked.
soft at first. then harder.
your thighs clamped together.
“open ‘em,” he said without looking up. voice low. calm.
you hesitated. he tapped your thigh, firm. “spread them legs for me, mama.”
you obeyed.
the air kissed your inner thighs. you could already feel how wet you were — too much, too fast. it embarrassed you. you turned your head, biting your bottom lip to keep from whining out loud.
he noticed.
“why you hidin’ from me?” he said softly, lips dragging down your stomach. “nah, look at me.”
you blinked, slowly dragging your gaze down your body — and there he was.
on his knees. shoulders wide between your thighs. both hands caressing the outsides of them like he was anchoring you there. like he wasn’t lettin’ you go.
he kissed the inside of your leg.
then again.
and again.
your breathing shook. your hips rolled forward on instinct — desperate, wanting, already aching for him to stop teasing and start doing.
“mm.” he chuckled against your skin. “you greedy already, baby? barely even touched you.”
“‘lijah, please,” you whispered. you weren’t even sure what you were asking for.
but he knew.
his breath hit your center, then his tongue. one single, slow lick, long and deep, like he was already drunk off you.
your hips jerked.
he gripped your thighs tighter.
“keep still,” he said thickly. “take what i give you.”
then he dove in.
you didn’t know a man could eat like that.
like he ain’t have nothin’ else to do.
like this was his only job tonight.
like he was studyin’ you through his tongue.
his lips sucked hard on your clit, tongue flickin’ fast, then slow, then fast again — working you open like he already knew your rhythm. your moans poured out your mouth in soft, high cries, your fingers fisting the sheets.
“that’s it,” he said in between, voice rough. “give it to me. lemme hear you.”
you whined. back arching. thighs trembling against his shoulders.
then his fingers pushed inside. two of them. thick. slow at first. curling up till you screamed his name.
“‘lijah—fuck—!”
“that’s it,” he groaned, voice like thunder, deep in your belly. “ain’t even fuck you yet and you already singin’ for me. this pussy so damn tight…”
your head dropped back. he kept goin’. tongue, fingers, rhythm like he was tryna ruin you soft before he ever even got inside.
“feel good?”
you nodded fast. too fast.
“use your words, baby.”
“feels s-so good,” you stammered, legs shaking. “feels—i can’t—”
“yes you can,” he growled. “you takin’ it. don’t stop now.”
your orgasm hit like a wave — hard, sweet, fast — and he didn’t stop until you were gasping, shaking, hips grinding against his face like your body couldn’t get enough.
he licked you through it. slow, like a man proud of what he’d done.
and then he stood.
his lips and chin glistened in the candlelight. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, watching you with those same dark, steady eyes.
“now,” he muttered, voice deep with heat, “you ready for your real birthday present?”
you barely noticed when he started undressing.
you were too high off your first orgasm, too dazed by the way he licked his fingers clean like your taste meant something holy.
but then you looked up.
and there he was. shirt off. belt undone. pants loose around his hips.
he was thick. all over. chest cut deep with muscle, abs shadowed in the low candlelight. and when he pulled his briefs down, your breath caught in your throat.
he was big.
not just long — thick. curved just a little. veiny, heavy, already hard for you. your stomach flipped. you swallowed slow.
he caught your face. stared at you hard, just for a second.
“don’t get scared now,” he said low, walking toward the bed.
you didn’t even blink. “i’m not.”
he smiled once. slow.
“good.”
he climbed onto the bed, knee between your thighs, body over yours. his dick was resting heavy against your stomach now, warm and firm, pressed between you both like a quiet threat.
his hand slid up your side. slow. possessive.
“‘lijah…”
“yeah, baby?”
your hands reached for his shoulders. “want you to go slow.”
he leaned down. kissed your lips once, then again, and again — soft, then deeper.
“i got you.”
he meant it.
you watched as he reached down, lined himself up.
you felt the tip slide through your folds first — slow, wet, easy — then nudge right up against your entrance.
your breath stopped.
his eyes locked on yours. “keep your eyes on me.”
you nodded.
then he pushed.
the first inch burned. thick, tight, stretching you more than you’d ever imagined. your fingers dug into his biceps. you whimpered loud — your body trying to tense, but he stopped. held still.
“breathe, baby,” he whispered, brushing your cheek. “you takin’ me real good.”
you nodded again. deep breaths. legs open wider, even through the ache.
he kissed your jaw. your shoulder. your breast.
then moved again.
slow. deep. inch by inch.
you felt every part of him — the way his width stretched your walls, the curve pressing against that spot deep inside.
you cried out soft, and he kissed you through it.
“that’s it,” he muttered. “fuck… you feel that? how tight this pussy grippin’ me already? goddamn.”
you nodded frantically. didn’t even realize you were tearing up until he kissed the corner of your eye.
“still with me?”
“y-yeah,” you whispered. “feels so full—so big.”
“you takin’ it, though,” he growled. “takin’ me like you mine. that what you want?”
“yes,” you moaned, nearly sobbing. “i’m yours, ‘lijah.”
his hips snapped deeper. not fast — hard. just once. enough to make your mouth drop open and your back arch.
“say that shit again.”
“i’m yours.”
again.
“i’m yours, i’m—fuck, i can’t think—”
he gripped your jaw. firm. made you look at him.
“good,” he said low. “don’t think. just feel me.”
you couldn’t stop moaning. couldn’t stop clinging to him, crying out soft each time he pulled back and pushed in slow, like he was tryna bury himself deeper every time.
“doin’ so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, dragging his dick all the way out, then in again. “pussy tryna pull me in like it missed me.”
you were shaking now. legs wide, thighs trembling. you couldn’t speak — just whimpering, whining.
“damn,” he chuckled dark, voice hoarse, “got you dumb already? barely even fucked you yet.”
you nodded fast. “so good—feels too good—”
“you sound so pretty like this.”
his hand slid to your throat. didn’t squeeze — just laid there, pressure soft but firm.
your eyes rolled back. your hips bucked up.
“you like that?” he growled. “like when i hold you down like this?”
“y-yeah,” you gasped. “makes me feel… feel owned.”
he leaned in, tongue dragging slow up your neck.
“you are,” he breathed, hips grinding deep. “all mine, baby.”
you came again like that.
deep strokes. his hand at your throat. eyes locked. his name pouring from your lips like a prayer you couldn’t stop chanting.
he didn’t stop moving. not even after you came.
he fucked you through it. let you shake, let you cry, let you babble nothin’ but his name while your body milked him hard.
his rhythm got rougher then. deeper. heavier.
clap clap clap
his hips slammed against your thighs now. your legs spread wider, his chest brushing yours.
“look at you,” he hissed. “a whole fuckin’ mess. i ain’t even done with you yet.”
“‘lijah—i can’t—”
“yes the fuck you can,” he growled. “take all this dick. you wanted it.”
“wanted it,” you sobbed. “wanted you—just like this.”
he kissed your mouth hard. bit your bottom lip.
then his hips started to stutter.
“gon’ cum in you,” he warned. “gon’ fill this pretty pussy up real nice.”
you moaned out loud. “do it. please—please cum inside me.”
his voice broke.
“fuck—”
and then he came.
hips buried deep. groan low and heavy in your ear. his body shaking over yours, sweat dripping from his neck to your collarbone.
he held himself there. breath on your cheek. cock still twitching deep inside, warm cum filling you slow.
but he didn’t move.
he pulled back just enough to look at you — your face flushed, lips parted, body limp and used and overwhelmed.
then he smirked.
“we not done.”
your eyes widened. your legs twitched.
and you whispered:
“…again?”
he chuckled, slow and dark. kissed your throat.
“it’s your birthday.”
you didn’t even feel him slip out at first.
your whole body was floating — boneless, twitching, your skin hot and glazed with sweat. but then you felt the emptiness, the slow drip of cum leaking down the inside of your thigh, and your body clenched instinctively like it already missed him.
you blinked up at the ceiling, chest rising shallow. your voice was gone, but your throat was still raw from moaning.
he leaned over you again. brushed your hair out of your face. kissed the side of your head.
“turn over,” he murmured.
your lashes fluttered. “wha…?”
“you heard me.”
his voice wasn’t mean. it wasn’t cold either. it was low. final.
you rolled to your stomach slowly, shaky arms pulling you up on all fours.
your legs barely worked, trembling from the first round. but then you felt him behind you — his hands at your waist, firm and wide, pulling your ass back toward him like he’d never left.
he leaned down. lips at your spine.
“you look good like this.”
a kiss.
“all fucked out.”
another kiss.
“still open for me.”
you whimpered into the sheets, face burning.
his hands dragged up your back, slow.
then one came down — smack — a sharp slap to your ass, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make you jolt.
“you still wet,” he said, voice darker now. “still drippin’ f’me.”
his dick slid up between your folds again — still hard, still thick.
he teased you with it, back and forth, tip just barely pressing at your entrance.
“you gon’ let me back in?”
you nodded fast. “yes—yes, please, ‘lijah—”
“nah.” he grabbed your throat from behind, just enough pressure to ground you. “say it right.”
“want your dick again,” you whined. “want it back inside—please, i need it.”
he pushed in slow, but deep.
you choked on your gasp. it felt even bigger like this — from behind, with your legs spread wide, your back arched, your pussy already sore and wet and raw from the first round.
he bottomed out with a growl, his grip tight on your hips.
“fuck… this pussy was made for me.”
you moaned loud.
his hips started moving — slow at first. each stroke long, dragging every inch of him against your walls.
smack
smack
smack
you could barely stay up. your arms gave out, chest sinking into the mattress, ass still high while he gripped your waist and pounded you from behind like he was tryna see what you were made of.
you whimpered with every thrust.
“look at you,” he muttered, voice all heat. “back here takin’ this dick like a lil fuckin’ toy. that what you want? be my toy?”
you nodded, drooling against the sheets. “yes—yes, i wanna be yours, use me, please—”
“mmhmm. already knew you was nasty.”
his hand wrapped in your hair and pulled your head back, your spine arching sharper, your mouth wide with a ragged cry.
“this how you wanted me to fuck you on your birthday, huh?” he growled, breath hot at your ear. “deep. rough.”
“mhmmmmm,” you whimpered. “can’t think—feels too good—”
he laughed once, dark and low.
“don’t need you to think. just take it.”
and you did.
you let him fuck you deeper. rougher. no rhythm now — just noise and skin and heat. your moans turned to gasps. his name spilled out again and again, your whole body shaking from overstimulation, your pussy clenching hard around him.
you came again, harder than before.
your body seized. legs shaking. tears pricking your eyes from how good it felt. how deep it went.
and he didn’t stop.
he chased his own release, his hips pounding you into the bed until he grunted through his teeth, held you tight, and came deep again — slow, thick warmth spilling inside you while he held you still and fucked it deeper.
it took you minutes to come back to yourself.
you collapsed to your side when he finally pulled out, your body limp and soaked in sweat and cum.
you felt him disappear for a moment. then return — a warm cloth between your thighs, his hand sliding slow across your lower back.
“you good?”
you nodded weakly. “i can’t feel my legs.”
he laughed softly. real soft.
“that mean i did it right.”
you blinked up at him through half-lidded eyes. his hand was rubbing your thigh, slow. grounding.
you whispered, barely audible—“you didn’t hold back.”
he kissed your cheek. “ain’t supposed to.”
you smiled.
his fingers traced the necklace he gave you, still resting warm on your collarbone.
then he said, softer this time:
“happy birthday, mama.”
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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐕𝐘𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀.
