classytiti

[classytiti]

OUUU HOLD AWNNN

I love them together!!!

[classytiti]

Hiiii! ive created a discord server for all of the sinners lovers. you can click the link here and join! make sure to follow the small instructions in the beginning to have a better experience. and ALSO if you want a character, nows the time to grab him/her before its all gone.

[classytiti]

@sammyquarius did so well with her smoke and Annie part 1 fic, IN LOVE

Me seeing that AnniexSmoke fanfic writers are cooking with gasoline and being delusional in thinking my post inspired(or frightened) them to write:

Thank y'all for your talent and the time you take to write for us, your avid supporters and readers!

Love y'all!

[classytiti]

Part 2 of Beneath the Mississippi is coming out before Midnight!

[classytiti]

haiii, do you mind writing something for kinky!smoke? im achingggg for it titi

Money

featuring: elijah smoke moore x black!reader warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, money kink titi's note: thank you so much for requesting anon, mwah Masterlist Here

smoke was so gentle, loving, and caring. but you never expected him to have such a kinky side.

he was such a sweet thing. helping you into bed, whispering sweet nothings like his life depended on it. he’d wash your clothes, serve you breakfast in bed, rub your feet when they hurt, and even wash you in the shower without you asking. always so tender with those big hands, like you were his softest secret.

so you weren’t shocked when smoke didn’t help with your shower tonight. you figured he was tired. you stepped out, skin dripping, forgetting your towel. you padded toward the bedroom, nipples hard from the air and hair clinging to your shoulders. the bed was covered in stacks of money, crisp bills splayed like he’d just counted them out with care. but smoke wasn’t in the room.

“baby, your money—” you started, brows furrowing.

but your words halted when you saw him.

he walked in slow, barefoot, slacks riding low on his hips. his bare chest gleamed, the scent of cocoa butter hitting before he even got close. his eyes, usually soft when they landed on you, were dark now. hungry.

“get on the bed, baby,” he said, voice low, like gravel soaked in honey.

you blinked. “what? i’m still wet, and i’m pretty sure this money came from not-clean hands—”

“and?” he cut you off. “ion mind fuckin’ my girl on this money, ’specially when you all wet like that.”

“i—smoke, that’s—”

you didn’t even finish.

his hand was already between your thighs, cupping your pussy in one big palm. his middle finger teased your slit, then slid in like it owned you. your knees buckled.

“you tellin’ me i can’t have my pussy tonight?” he murmured, eyes burning into yours. the warmth was gone. this was smoke in another mood, something rougher.

you gasped as his finger curled inside you, your thighs squeezing around his wrist. he guided you to the bed, pushing you down with one firm press. not harsh but with purpose. your curls flew, face planting into soft cotton and the crackle of hundred-dollar bills.

“smoke—”

“i see i need to fuck you on this money. show you how much you worth to me.”

you whimpered, hips twitching. your pussy clenched around nothing. his voice… his tone… it did something to you. lit something up inside you.

then he grabbed your hair, hard. pulled you back until your spine arched like a bow. you cried out as your face met his—close enough to feel his breath, to taste the lust in his expression.

and then he pushed in.

his cock—thick, veiny, dark—slid in deep, all the way to your cervix. one slow, brutal stroke that left your mouth falling wide open in a silent scream.

“thaa’s it,” he growled in your ear, holding you there, balls snug against your soaked folds. “this pussy mine. all mine.”

you couldn’t even argue. couldn’t speak. all you could do was moan, high and needy, as he pulled out slow, then slammed back in. again. and again.

the money crinkled under your knees. your back bowed with every thrust. his grip on your hips was bruising, but you didn’t want it any softer.

he leaned down, chest to your back, lips brushing your ear. “keep that ass up, baby. i want you to remember every dollar i fuck into you.”

and he made sure you would.

[classytiti]

I’m so In love with your theme titi💕💕

awe tysm anon! ☺️☺️

[classytiti]

me otw to the juice

Yall come get yall juice

[classytiti]

well... he also need to stick his tongue in m-

"It's not exactly how I remember it" - Stack Sinners (2025) - dir. Ryan Coogler

[classytiti]

Big Men

featuring: smoke x black!fem!reader x stack warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI Masterlist Here

them.

their huge arms.

their peppered beards.

can’t get enough of their huge, heavy cocks and the way they push past your holes like they own them. like you ain’t nothing but a plaything they pass between each other.

can’t and won’t stop thinking of Stack’s cock in your mouth while Smoke’s cock stretches you from behind, the soft feeling of your needy pussy gripping him tight, molded to his size.

their veiny arms holding you in place, a pair on your waist and a pair on your face.

the amount of saliva and cream leaving your body with every thrust, making you dehydrated, delirious.

these big men really got you obsessed.

they fuck you like they’re claiming territory, like they’re stamping their name in your bones with every stroke.

Stack's got your throat bulging, eyes watering, spit spilling out the corners of your mouth. “Look at you,” he growls, staring down at you like he’s proud of how messy he’s made you. “Good little fucktoy. You want more?”

you can’t even answer—Smoke already got your legs shaking, got you pinned by the hips and pounding so deep it feels like he’s hitting your soul.

"Greedy thing," Smoke grunts behind you, sweat dripping off his brow. “One cock ain’t enough for you, huh? You needed both of us ruining this tight little body.”

your moans break apart into sobs, pleasure too much, too full, but they don’t stop. they never stop.

Stack slaps your cheek lightly, smirking. “Keep crying, baby. Makes that throat tighter.” He shoves deeper, choking you on it, and your whole body twitches from how good it feels.

you’re nothing but their pretty mess now—wet, stuffed, shaking.

your stomach's bloated from how deep Smoke is, your jaw aches from Stack’s thickness, but you don't beg them to stop.

you beg them to keep going.

you claw at the sheets, drool dripping down your chin, body limp and wrecked between them.

and when they finally finish—Stack down your throat, Smoke deep inside your cunt—you’re left ruined, breathless, twitching from overstimulation.

but even then...

you still want more.

[classytiti]

nah that did it for me. People was like “why they running out?” CAUSE HE BOUT TO MURDER MARY!😭

I really resent Stack for destroying his brother family (Annie) while protecting his (Mary). Cause what you mean you done dehumanizing my wife, making me put a stake right in her heart, then you take your lil shawty outside cause you know damn well I wouldn’t hesitate to kill her too ?

[classytiti]

yesss pls continue with this, im literally invested!

Beneath the Mississippi

It’s a hot, suffocating Mississippi day. The kind of heat that sticks to your skin and never lets go, no matter how much the breeze tries to stir. The small town of Clarksdale feels heavy, like it carries the weight of every heartbreak and unspoken word.

Smoke’s been away for years—seven long, brutal years. He left after their baby girl, the only thing that ever felt like a future worth fighting for, was taken from them too soon. He couldn't look at Annie without seeing her pain. Couldn't bear the way she’d stare at him like he was a ghost, like he had failed them both in ways that felt irreparable. But now, here he is, standing on the dirt path that leads to the tiny grave just outside Annie’s house—the place where their daughter is buried, and a place that feels like the last memory of a love he can never get back.

He stands there for a moment, the heat making the air shimmer around him, and places the flowers on the grave. The bright, soft petals of lilies, the kind he remembers her loving, despite everything. He kneels down and whispers, his voice thick with sorrow.

“Papa’s here, baby girl,” he murmurs under his breath, his voice rough, cracked with years of unsaid words and missed opportunities. He doesn’t care if anyone hears him. He doesn’t care about anything but the weight of her absence and the ache that cuts through him like a knife every time he stands here.

Annie’s house is just a few yards away, the porch light dim and lonely, just like everything else around here. He’s been back to Clarksdale for hours, waiting for the right moment to see her. He’s not sure if he’ll ever get that moment, but he’s here now—because he’s here now.

And then, just as he turns to leave, he sees her.

Annie. Standing in the doorway of her house, her eyes narrowed, her body tense. She’s watching him, watching every move he makes, like she’s trying to decide if she can let him back into her world or if the damage is too deep.

“What do you want from me? ,” she calls out, her voice full of bitterness and hurt.

Smoke winces at the sound of it. He knows he deserves it. He hasn’t been there for her. He hasn’t been there for anyone. Not for her when she needed him most, not when their little girl had to leave this world too soon.

“I know I don’t have the right to ask you for forgiveness, Annie,” Smoke says softly, stepping back toward the porch, his boots crunching the gravel beneath him. “But I came to see you. Came to see our daughter. I never… I never meant for it to end like that.”

“You never meant for it to end at all,” Annie shoots back, her words sharp. “You left. You ran. And now you think you can just come back and act like everything’s okay?”

He takes a breath, swallowing hard. “I’m not asking for everything to be okay. I’m just asking to see you. I’m not asking you to forget, but I need you to know that I—”

“You don’t get to say anything to me, Smoke.” Her words hit him like a slap. She crosses her arms, her eyes blazing with hurt and disbelief. “You left me with the grief of losing our baby. The grief you didn’t even care to share.”

Smoke flinches, the weight of her anger crashing over him. The guilt—his guilt—wraps itself tighter around him, choking him. “I never stopped loving you. I never stopped missing you, Annie. I—”

“You left, and you doubted me,” she spits, the pain now bleeding into her voice.

"You doubted everything I believed in. You thought that… that whatever I was doing, it wasn’t enough to save her. You think that was easy for me? To keep trying? To believe in something when you didn’t?”

His heart aches at the anger in her eyes, at the way she holds her ground. But there’s no way to change the past, no way to take back the things he said when their world fell apart.

“I was angry,” Smoke admits, looking down at his boots. “I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand.I just… I don’t know how to fix it.”

But then, as quickly as it comes, it fades, replaced by the familiar ache of betrayal. “You should’ve been here,” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. “You should’ve stayed.”

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out, but she steps back, shaking her head. “You can’t come back, Smoke. You can’t just waltz back in here like nothing happened.”

“I’m not asking for you to forgive me,” he says again, voice steady. “But I came back because I can’t keep running. And I need you, Annie. I need you to help me. I’m opening a juke joint tonight with my brother. I need someone to cook. You are the one I need. I always knew that.”

Her eyes narrow, and he can see the fight within her, the battle of emotions she’s been holding in for all these years. The juke joint is a dream they had together once—something she always believed in. He’s not sure if she’ll agree, but he’s desperate. He needs to make this right.

“Why would I help you after everything?” she asks, her voice quiet but full of that familiar steel.

“Because,” Smoke says, finally meeting her gaze, “I’m still here. I still need you. And no matter what happened, I never stopped loving you.”

For a moment, she stands still, her eyes locked with his, searching for something she’s not sure she can find. But then, with a slow exhale, she turns, nodding toward the door.

“You want me to cook, Smoke? Fine,” she says, her voice steady. “But don’t think this is some happy reunion. You’ve got a long road to walk before we’re anywhere close to what we were.”

Smoke doesn’t care. At least they’re taking a step. At least they’re moving forward, even if it’s just a little.

He watches her disappear into the house, his heart heavy, but with a flicker of hope he hasn’t felt in years.

Note: Should I continue with this? Check out more content at  www.tumblr.com/sammyquarius. Like and comment!

[classytiti]

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

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

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

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

“stack—”

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

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

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

“i said please,” you whimper.

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

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

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

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

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

a beat passes. Then:

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

[classytiti]

JAYME LAWSON 📷 by Kyle Galvin

[classytiti]

wunmi mosaku • via instagram • @/dionnesmithhair

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i’m in actual tears right nowwwww

[classytiti]

i wonder what late nights are like with Smoke. Masterlist Here

would he close the door behind you slow, like he’s sealing the rest of the world out? maybe he’d watch you for a moment, that heavy gaze of his tracing every line of your body .

“you look tired, baby,” he’d murmur, voice deep and low like thunder caught in molasses. “let me take care of you tonight.”

he’d step behind you, warm palms gliding beneath the hem of your shirt, pushing the fabric up slow like he’s savoring the shit. his fingers would be unexpectedly soft against your skin. he wouldn’t rush. not Smoke. he’d undress you piece by piece, like unwrapping his favorite sweet candy, his breath ghosting over your neck as he kissed your shoulder and whispered, “been thinkin’ about you all damn day.”

the bathroom would already be steamy—he’d made sure of it. he knows how you like it, hot enough to fog up the mirrors and make the world outside melt away. the lights would be dim, the kind of soft glow that makes everything feel... safer.

he’d step into the shower behind you, fully clothed at first, letting the water soak through his shirt as he held you there, his chest against your back. then he'd grab a washcloth, drag it gently across your shoulders, down your spine.

“lean back on me,” he’d whisper, voice ragged, “i got you.”

and you would, because with Smoke, even silence feels right.

afterward, he'd wrap you in a towel and carry you to bed like it's his mission. you wouldn’t even need to ask. you’d just find yourself tucked against him, limbs tangled, your ear resting on the steady thrum of his chest.

“don’t go nowhere,” he’d say against your temple, lips brushing your skin. “i don’t sleep right unless you here.”

his arms—those strong, worn arms that have held guns, secrets, pain, would curl around you like you’re the only soft thing he knows. he’d hold you tight, like maybe he’s afraid the world might snatch you away in the middle of the night.

“i like it like this,” he’d murmur into the dark. “you. here.”

and before sleep could pull you under, you’d hear one last whisper, raw and quiet like it slipped out without permission:

“ain’t never cared for peace ‘til I found it in you.”

[classytiti]

About Me

♡⊹˚₊𐙚⋆YOUR FAVORITE GIRL⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

tiana, aka titi. obsessed with the movie sinners (and a few others, but let’s be real—sinners has my heart).

i’m 22, blk + puerto rican, born + raised in Puerto rico - libra babe I support writers (also write a little myself) + spread good vibes only. no bullying, no racism, no judging—this is a safe space fr.

i will call you out if needed! wanna be friends or just vibe? my dms are wide open. I am also open to any feedback from anyone.

my inbox is always open for you all.

Masterlist

Drabbles

Elijah Smoke Moore

𓂃۶ৎ Late Nights | sfw 𓂃۶ৎBig Men | nsfw 𓂃۶ৎMoney | nsfw | requested

Elias Stack Moore

𓂃۶ৎ Rough Nights | nsfw 𓂃۶ৎBig Men | nsfw

Credits

Dividers:𓂃۶ৎ @si-eunnis Gifs:𓂃۶ৎ @serxndgifites & @hellgifs