#Smoke Stack Twins

[asoftepiloguemylove]

LAST TIME I SEEN THE SUN / I WAS FREE AND ON THE RUN

[blackwidownat2814]

Why was this the funniest part of the movie?

SINNERS 2025 — dir. Ryan Coogler

[leftoverghosts]

Smoke, what that witch out there talking about? You gonna let her get in between us again?

[risingoftime]

TWO STEP TRAP | SMOKE STACK TWINS X F!READER |

You are one of the best dancers at the Midnight Blues joint in Chicago; it was only a matter of time before you encountered the Smoke Stack Twins. Their names linger in the club like perfume and cigars. If you are in the scene, you know them… and of course, they knew you.

contains: 18+ mdni, prequel to sinners, dancer!reader, porn with plot, smut, oral (Stack is a eater), threesome, p in v, pet names, man handling, body worshipping?? talking you through it, fingering, fucking two bad bitches at the same damn time.

You picked up your pace as you looked down at the watch on your wrist. It was nearly ten pm, and Marcus would threaten to lock your ass out if you didn’t arrive on time. He knew better though, you were the one that everyone came to see. Word spread quickly in the streets of Chicago, but there’s a place folks whisper about but rarely name out loud for fear of the White man hearing. It ain’t on any map called The Last Two Step, but if you know the right knock and carry enough heartbreak in your shoes, it’ll guide you behind an unmarked door at the edge of South Parkway Boulevard. In the joint, velvet smoke curls through the air, and every note from Ambrose’s piano drips slow and sticky, like honey off a blade. The Last Two Step is where time forgets itself in the sway of hips and the clink of glasses filled with bourbon. Nobody stumbles in by accident. If you find yourself there, something or someone wanted you to. And once you cross that threshold, baby, the night decides what happens next.

At the corner of your eye, you could see a slightly older, light-skinned woman shimmying her body down the alley to the hidden doorway of the club. “Miss Felicity! Wait up & hold the door, will you?” You hollered. Her head whipped to look behind her in alarm, but her glare softened once she saw you quickly following after her. She laughed at you as you tried to steady your breath.

“When will you learn your lesson and stop rushing at the last minute?” Felicity shook her head as you hurried inside and double-checked to see if anyone followed after y'all.

You flashed her a grin and said, “Probably right after you stop pretending you don’t love the thrill. Chaos builds character. Have you ever heard that?”

“Girl, you’re practically asking for trouble,” she muttered. Ambrose and the boys were still setting up the stage and tuning their instruments when you passed the wooden dance floor towards the changerooms in the back. Their eyes tracked the way you walked and paused to sneak a peek at your backside when they thought you wouldn’t notice. They were never slick enough to avoid getting caught. “Y’all are no better than little boys!” Felicity swatted at them as she climbed onto the stage and straightened her skirt. Felicity’s voice carried throughout the establishment even when she wasn’t singing and harmonizing with the band.

“Can’t blame us for admiring!” one of them defended.

Rolling your eyes, you pushed into the changeroom, more like a storage closet the dancers used to store their things and prepare for the night. Soon enough, the floor out there would be packed with sweaty bodies, hungry eyes, and a swanky beat that was hard to resist. And you? You’d be right in the middle, moving like a snake, soaking up the spotlight like it was poured just for you. Showing off your sultry moves, enticing the eyes of whoever looked upon you.

You weren’t just entertainment. You were a magnet. Marcus, the owner, knew it too. He would give you some of the shares to keep the crowd thick and thirsty, which is why he called you “eye candy.” A walking advertisement, you were good publicity for his juke joint. The three other girls in the room with you, Jacqueline, Deborah, and Ann, had the same deal. They didn’t care for me much, never had been. You drew too much attention, and it didn’t help that you didn’t come from the same background as them. You were the daughter of sharecroppers or “cotton pickers,” they say. Your skin was dark and smooth, shimmering in the light and under sweat. Your full lips, tantalizing gaze, and body that bloomed too fast for your age made you all the more unforgettable. Slim, sultry, and curved just right were the words used to describe her.

Looking into the handheld mirror as you finished the last touches to your makeup, you could see Marcus in the corner of your eye. “Baby, I ain’t paying you to doll yourself up and hide away!” His tone was playful, but there was an edge to his voice, and you knew that if you said the wrong thing, Marcus’ temper would appear. That is probably why he still ain’t been able to keep a woman. He’s only truly satisfied when he's drunk.

“Geez, what’s the hurry?” you whined as you hiked up your skirt higher to show more of your bare legs and patted down any stray hairs on your head from the finger curls.

“I gotta handle some business with the twins. Show ’em this is the kinda spot they wanna put their money in,” Marcus said, smoothing down his vest with a wink. The mention of the twins made your ears perk up. Smoke & Stack weren’t just names; they were similar to legends, stitched into the underbelly of Chicago. You didn’t just meet the Smoke Stack twins, you survived an encounter with them. If they were sniffing around Marcus’s place, it meant money was about to flow, and trouble wasn’t too far behind.

The music thrummed through your body and travelled to your chest as you allowed yourself to get lost in the rhythm and blues. All around you, a sea of Black bodies moved as one to the voice of Felicity and Ambrose’s band. In the night, they became a living and breathing entity under the heavy and melliferous air of the juke joint. The outside world slipped away in this moment, and all that mattered was the here and now. This is why you always answered the call of The Last Two Step, chasing the high of being free and being a person who is looked up to and not down upon. So far, there were no signs of the twins, and Marcus was growing more antsy by the minute. He’s resorted to pouring you more alcohol than he could offer, anything to make the party look wild and enticing to anyone who came inside.

Anticipation is the sweetest form of torture, and when the identical twins strolled through the entrance, it seemed as though the room truly came alive. Your eyes met with one of them. It wasn’t easy to tell them apart. He flashed a crooked smile, revealing a set of grills over his canines and front teeth. You twirled lightly, letting your waist roll slowly and deliberately. A glance over your shoulder caught the twins approaching Marcus at the bar, who suddenly looked boyish beside their commanding, muscular forms. Marcus was tall, handsome, and fit, but the twins had a figure that only one could have achieved by working hard in the fields.

Jacqueline broke you out of your thoughts when she walked beside you, “If one of those twins so much as smiled my way, I'd be slippin' outta my panties without a second thought.” She looked at the group of men with hungry eyes, drinking them in. You couldn’t blame her, but you’d be damned if any of the other dancers got a taste of the twins before you did. If the rumours were true, the twins were hung like a horse and knew how to eat a girl out so well that she could start humming in colours she had never seen before.

You watched as Deborah and Jacqueline positioned themselves near the twins and got brutally ignored. Better them than you. It’s better that you learn what not to do through them than make a fool of yourself. Moments passed as you danced amongst the crowd, and the music began to slow into a two-step dance, and people began to couple off. Scanning the crowd, you could see a man making his way to you. He’s been ogling you for most of the night and didn’t look too rough. Shit, one dance won’t hurt, right? It’s not like it’ll be your first or last.

Mid-stride, one of the twins drawled, “Ease up, kid,” bumpin’ his shoulder with a grin. “I’ll take it from here, see?”

The young man screwed up his face, about to give the southern gentlemen a piece of his mind but thought better of it when he saw the twin flash him a crooked smile. Smoothing out his button-up shirt, the young man puffed out his chest and recovered quickly. “No worries, boss.” He gave me a once-over before nodding his head in dismissal. The unnamed twin didn’t even bother to turn his head to ensure he was gone before extending a hand in your direction.

“May I have this dance?” His smile revealed the notorious grill the twins were famous for, shining faintly in the dimly lit venue. You couldn’t recall whether it was Smoke or Stack who wore it. Ultimately, did it matter? You paused and accepted his hand. His warm, large, and calloused grip completely enveloped your hand. Aside from counting cash, your thoughts drifted to what else his fingers might be good at. He instantly pulled you in closer with ease. Your bodies were flush against each other, now chest to chest. You peered up at him.

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?” You countered. The chuckle that left his throat vibrated throughout his whole body. It didn’t help that when you took a breath to calm your erratic heart, his cologne and natural fragrance evaded your senses. As the two of you fell into rhythm with the music, the thoughts running in your head were anything but holy. It was rare for a man to elicit such a response from you on the first encounter.

“A lady always has a choice,” he rebutted, voice like molasses slow drippin’ off a spoon.

“Who said I was a lady?” you challenged, chin tilted and your cheeks filled with heat. Once it slipped out of your mouth, there was no snatching it back. You've always been reckless with how words leapt past your lips without permission. He didn’t as much as blink at your question and didn’t smirk either. Just stepped in closer, real close, until the scent of smoke, cologne, and something else curled in your nose again. His thigh rose between your legs, stopping just shy of making contact with your center, enough to make your breath catch in your throat, dipping you down and pulling you back up in time with the strums of the guitar that played aloud.

“Then I reckon I ain’t gotta treat you like one,” he murmured, voice pitched low and dangerous, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I do like a woman who talks back.” You swore your knees might buckle right there. “S’wrong? Cat’s got your tongue?” he joked to lighten the obvious tension that grew quickly between you two. You could hear your heartbeat over the hum of the blues and chatter surrounding you. His thigh lingered, firm and deliberate, almost making you forget your damn name. But you weren’t going to let him have the upper hand. Not entirely.

Leaning in just a little, with parted lips and sharp eyes. “And what do they call you, stranger?” your voice came out strong and daring like you weren’t already trying to keep your head on straight.

He didn’t answer right away, dragging his gaze from your eyes to your lips, then down to the space between you that barely existed anymore. “They call me Stack,” he finally said, a slow smile began curling at the corner of his mouth. “But you can call me Elias Moore.” He said it like a promise as he lowered his deep red fedora hat, his eyes never leaving yours. His name hung in the air, impossible to ignore. The kind of name a woman didn’t forget, even if she wanted to. The Elias Stack Moore stood before you. Being his girl could open up more doors for you than you could count.

“Come on,” he drawled, his hand brushing the small of your back. “Dance floor’s gettin’ too damn crowded for what I got in mind.” You felt him guide you, firm but unhurried, through the sea of moving bodies, past the haze of cigar smoke and spilled bourbon. Nobody paid y’all any mind. Juke joints were built on secrets and sideway glances anyway.

The changeroom door creaked as he pushed it open with his shoulder. The low bulb above our heads flickered like it knew what was coming. Inside, it smelled like lavender powder and dust. The old velvet curtains were draped over crates, hiding booze and our valuables. The crooked mirror watched us from their respective corners. He closed the door behind you with a click that felt louder than it was.

He leaned against it for a beat, arms crossed, watching you like he was still deciding whether to kiss you or ruin you slowly. “Now,” Stack’s voice dropped to a sinful hush, “where were we?”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. This boy must’ve lost his goddamn mind if he thought the two of you were going to get hot and heavy in this sorry excuse of a change room. You weren’t a lady, but you had class and respect, very little of it, but it was there nonetheless. The two of you stood in the quiet room, and the silence stretched thick with possibility. Stack pushed off the door and lazily strolled toward you like he had all the time in the world. His boots barely made a sound on the old wooden floors. Every inch he closed made your skin feel tighter.

“You always this quiet when you want something?” he asked. Stack stopped shy of touching you, his hands at his sides like he dared you to lean in first. The nerves in your body buzzed like a live wire. You were all too aware of how your desires practically had you ready to drop to your knees. But you kept your face unreadable, and it was your best defence. You’d been raised to survive men like Elias Stack Moore. The smooth talkers with heat behind their eyes and a storm tucked inside their smiles.

“Depends on what I want,” you finally said. “And whether it’s worth the noise.”

“Oh, I’m worth it,” he replied. Stack threw his hat on the dressing room counter to reveal his face. But I ain’t cheap.” You gave him a steady look up and down. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show a sliver of his skin. Everything he wore appeared nicely tailored to his physique, too.

“Neither am I,” you shot back.

Stack was now an inch away from your face, his warmth wrapped around you like steam off a kettle. His hand reached out, not to grasp nor to grope, but to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, rough fingers grazing your cheek like an invitation.

“Trust me, sugar, you keep carryin’ on as you do, and Chicago gon’ be hollerin’ your name louder than they ever did mine or my brother’s.”

“Well then,” you said, sliding your hand up his chest, fingers trailing the buttons of his shirt like you were counting sins, “guess it's a damn good thing I don't mind how my name sounds in another’s mouth.”

Shifting your hips just enough to make your intentions loud and clear without a single word more. Stack’s breath hitches just a little, but you caught it. You always did. You knew that taking it further would be a reckless mistake, but Lord, it’d feel like salvation. The end of a prolonged drought, giving in, would feel like the first rainfall. Wet, overwhelming, and too damn good to stop. Stack’s eyes told you he was ready to drown in it, and hell, you might just let him.

She didn't have to speak, just the slow roll of her hips were enough to knock the wind out of him. She knew how deep she could cut without drawing blood. His breath caught in his throat, bare and ragged. God help him. He wanted to ruin you in a way that leaves a mark and memory.

Stack knew better. He knew this would get messy. With a glance at your slicked thighs, Stack knew you'd provide no mercy.

Leaning in close, lips just shy of his ear. “Still quiet, Stack?” you whispered in a sweet and teasing voice. “I figured by now you'd know how to beg.” You loved turning his words and spinning them against him. His raw reactions were entertaining to see.

Stack’s jaw tightened, but his eyes didn't waver. “I don't beg, sugar,” his tone changed to a quiet and threatening one. “I take.”

You flashed him a wicked smile and hooked a finger around his belt buckle. “Then come take it.”

He didn't wait, with his hands on your waist, before you could exhale. His rough palms and fingers dug in as if he meant to claim something, or he already had.

“You sure about this?” He muttered against your neck, voice hoarse. Hot breath dragging over your skin. “Cause once I get started, I ain't stopping till I’ve wrung every drop outta yah.”

“Make good on allat talk,” you replied. That was all it took. Stack kissed you like he was desperate. Teeth and tongue felt like a little too much and not nearly enough. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed you up against the old brick wall, grinding against you with slow, punishing friction. His hands found the hem of your skirt, bunching it up, and slid a hand underneath with practiced ease.

“Fuck,” Stack groaned when he felt how soaked you already were. Two fingers slipped along your folds. “You tryna kill me, baby?”

“I ain't even started yet.”

He dropped to his knees like he'd been praying for the chance. Pulling your thighs apart and pushing your back against the cool wall. With a tongue hot and desperate, he licked up your pussy, groaning like you were his last meal. Your hand shot to his head, gripping tight, guiding him just as you liked it. He didn't need much. He was already lost in you. Every moan sounded like praise.

“That’s it,” you hissed, rocking yourself into his mouth. “Don’t fucking stop now.”

“I won’t,” Stack promised. Not until your legs were shaking, and his jaw was slick with you. Not until your pretty moans turned into curses and your body tried to escape, then pleasure only could chase you.

When he finally stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked at you, a man completely undone. Stack spun you around like it was second nature, pressing you into the wall with one hand, pinning your wrists above your head. His belt clinked open behind you, the soft grating of his zipper loud in the stillness.

"You sure you can take it, girl?" he muttered. Looking back, you could see Stack grip his thick length in his hand, pumping it up and down before lining his dick against your soaked entrance, teasing but firm. "Ain't no holding back tonight."

“Give it to me like you mean it,” you snapped.

Stack slammed into you in one cunning and possessive thrust. You gasped when your forehead hit the brick. He didn't give you a second to adjust, just wrapped an arm around your waist and started working his hips in a relentless tempo. The room echoed with sounds of skin meeting skin, moans, and his low curses. His other hand found your clit, and began rubbing small circles to make you fall apart all over again.

“You feel that?” he panted in your ear with pride. “This pussy is mine.”

You cried out, eyes fluttering shut from ecstasy. “Stack… fuck—” was all you managed to get out before he began grinding himself deeper inside.

Your orgasm was intense and all-consuming, tearing a high pitched outcry to escape your lips as you clenched your walls around him. Stack’s thrusts began to be uneven and passionate as he chased his own high. And just when he was on the edge, body trembling, and his muscles taut against yours…

“Well, goddam!”

Both of your heads snapped to the door. Stack froze inside of you, jaw clenched, with wide eyes at the sight of his twin brother.

Smoke stood there, curtly closing the door behind him and leaning against the doorframe like he walked in on a business deal instead of his brother balls deep in another’s soul.

“I come lookin’ for Stack and come to find this.” He gestured between the two of you with an amused look. “Y’all ain't even had the decency to lock the door?”

“Get the fuck out, Smoke,” Stack sounded feral.

Smoke smirked in return, kissing his teeth. “Don’t let me interrupt,” his fingers slipped behind him to turn the lock on the door. “Finish where you left off.”

Stack didn’t pull out. He didn’t even make a move as Smoke’s laughter faded. His grip on your hips tightened like he was claiming you harder now that he’d been seen. He was practically primal, yet there was a hesitation, a shift between the three of you.

“Good. Thought I might stick around this time.”

“You got one fuckin’ second to turn around,” Stack growled, still buried inside you, his chest rising and falling against your back.

“Relax,” Smoke said, voice smooth as whiskey and twice as dangerous. “Ain’t here to fight. I just figured if you were gonna fuck her like you mean it. You’d also let her choose who she wants.”

You turned your head slowly, pulse thrumming like a drum. Smoke leaned in the doorway again, one brow raised, hunger in his eyes like he already knew the answer. Stack’s jaw flexed. His hands never left your skin.

“This ain’t a game, Smoke.”

“Never said it was.” His gaze dropped to where your bodies were still joined. “But I seen the way she looks at me, too. Don’t play like you didn’t notice.”

It was the truth, they were identical twins after all. The thought had crossed your mind if they were also the same down there. Smoke had always been the smoother one. The devil that smiled back at you when you flirted with danger. And now, with Stack buried deep and your body still trembling from the last orgasm, part of you wanted to see what it’d be like to be stretched between both of them.

It’s up to her,” Smoke said, you could hear the smile in his voice. “Ain’t it?” Stack didn’t speak. His silence was a storm ready to break.

You turned to face them both, hips still pushed back. You looked at Smoke through your eyelashes, and said, “You better double check that the door is locked this time.”

Smoke jiggled the door handle before focusing his sights on you, bent forward as if committing the sight to memory.

“ Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured. “Didn’t expect you to be so generous.”

Stack remained silent. He just thrust into you once, hard enough to make you gasp and grip the wall again.

“She ain’t yours,” Stack burst, but his voice lacked conviction. He knew what this was. I knew it wasn’t just about possession.

“Ain’t tryin’ to take her,” Smoke replied, stepping near.

His hands were on you before you could think, one sliding up the nape of your neck, the other tilting your chin to face him. He kissed you softly at first until you deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, feeling Stack start to move again behind you, his speed staggering with every second.

“And you’re just lettin’ him have all the fun?” he mumbled against your mouth.

Stack growled low in his throat. “You want a turn, Smoke? Take her mouth. But you better be sure she can handle both of us.”

“Oh, I can,” you whispered, drunk on the moment.

Smoke stepped out of his clothes, his dick already thick and ready. He guided you down to your knees with his hand. You opened your mouth, lips wrapping around him just as Stack banged back into you from behind.

The stretch of both was overwhelming, one in your mouth and one buried deep. Stack fucked you harder now, his hold bruising on your hips, while Smoke let you control the pace with your tongue until he lost his patience and started to thrust into your mouth.

“Look at you,” Smoke groaned. “Takin’ us both like it’s what you were made for.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you moaned around him, the vibrations making Smoke’s jaw clench. Stack was close, you could feel it in the way his rhythm stuttered and his breathing picked up.

“She’s squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” Stack gasped. “She’s gonna make me—fuck—” He pulled out just in time to spill across your back, thick ropes of cum marking your skin while Smoke slid out of your mouth and lifted your chin again.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” Smoke growled, hauling you into his arms like you weighed nothing. He laid you down flat on the velvet covered crates nearby, pushing your knees back and plunging into you with a groan. The angle was brutal and somehow filthier. His eyes locked on yours the whole time, making it impossible for you to look away.

Stack leaned nearby, watching, still catching his breath, chest slick with sweat.

“Don’t think she’s ever been full till tonight.” Smoke said between thrusts.

You cried out, the pressure building fast and hot, your nails scraping down Smoke’s back. He fucked you through it, didn’t stop even as your body shook and your thighs tried to close. You came again loudly and broken open for Smoke to finally bury himself and release inside you.

For a long moment, the only sound was your breath and heartbeat, all three of you covered in sweat and something that felt dangerously close to obsession. Then Stack muttered lowly, “This doesn't change shit.”

“Oh, it changes everything, brother.” Smoke chuckled, pulling out slowly, the evidence of what you had just done dripping down your thighs.

taglist: @marley1773 @iheartamora @childishgambinaax

➴ feel free to send me more thots

[bombshellbre95]

People play too damn much 😂

[destinio1]

Oh he LOVE LOVE! She got that hoodoo coochie 😂🥹 I love that for her!

Choose One (Chapter 3) by Uzumaki Rebellion

Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore (characters in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Lena Blackwell (OC).

Warning(s): Mentions of Hoodoo, Explicit Sex, Romance, Adult Language, and Angst. Pre-Sinners movie.

Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.

Word Count: 4K

Masterlist HERE.

"See-line woman (see-line)

Black dress on (see-line)

For a thousand dollars (see-line)

She wail and she moan (see-line)"

Nina Simone—"See-Line Woman."

On the third day, just like the Jesus in the bible that Bernice loved so much, Lena rose from her respite. She bathed, perfumed her body, and curled her hair perfectly. She caught a cab to the club, picked up her favorite roasted peanuts to share with her co-workers, and strolled inside to find Smoke waiting for her at the bar.

"Lena. Good to see you again. Are you feeling alright?"

The concern in his voice touched her.

She put her peanuts behind the counter and took off her coat and hat. He checked out her hair and the new black work dress that was tighter than usual. It revealed more of her figure, especially her behind. She handed him brand new pre-rolls inside another cigarette case.

Dimples.

"Shall I bring your drink to your table?" she asked, already mixing dark rum and orange juice.

"Nah, I'll have it here. Thanks."

Max raised an eyebrow at her.

Lena handed Smoke the drink, and he stroked her finger gently while taking the glass. He enjoyed the opening floor show from the vantage point of the bar. It made some staff members nervous to see him hanging out there. Smoke wasn't the fun twin. Stack was.

Caroline fumed all night, upset that someone hadn't seated him at his regular table where she could monopolize his attention. During the headlining band's break, Lena joked with the bass player and the drummer who requested whiskey shots from her. They were guys she knew from her time as a waitress at a port diner where she served sailors, hookers, johns, and flamboyant pimps.

She forgot about Smoke being there and shared bawdy jokes and sordid tales about the wharf, cracking the men up. The drummer tapped a beat on the counter, reminiscing about the good times on the wharf, and the bass player started singing an old song about prostitutes working tricks. Lena got to bobbing her head and swiveling her hips behind the counter as she walked seductively like the streetwalkers did.

"Shake it Lena!" the drummer said.

She waved her hand dismissively at him and stacked shots of whiskey on a tray for Bernice. The bass player kept singing to her.

"See-line woman…dressed in green…wears silk stalkings…with golden seams…sing it with me, Lena!"

Smoke stood from his seat.

"Alright now. Let the lady work in peace. Break time is over. These people need music on the bandstand, not here."

Smoke's tone was firm, but there was a gleam in his eye. He enjoyed seeing the playful side of her. She also sensed that he didn't want other men taking her attention away from him in the club. The bass player and drummer slinked away.

"See-line woman…see-line…she drink coffee…she drink tea," Lena sang.

"A woman shouldn't be singing a song like that," he said.

"A woman can sing anything she wants," she countered.

The lilt in her voice worked magic on his lips. He smiled at her in a way he hadn't before. It lit a fire in her to be a little extra that night. Smoke took his half-finished drink back to his regular table and Lena chased after the bass player and drummer headed for the bandstand. She whispered in the drummer's ear and he drew back from her with uncertainty in his eyes.

"Don't worry, just do it," she said.

They took their positions back on the bandstand. Lena fluffed her curls and waited.

The bass player spoke to the bandleader, and he glanced over at Lena with curiosity. She waved her fingers at him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we'd like to do a song for you…it's an oldie, but a goodie. This one is going out to Mr. Smoke Moore."

Smoke stared at the bandleader with a crease on his forehead. Caroline lit his cigarette for him and he puffed away, waiting to see what the band would play. The music came out fast and spicy.

"Girl, what are you doing over here?" Bernice asked.

"Catching a bee with the honey he likes."

Lena strode over to the mic stand and looked in Smoke's direction. Her voice matched the raciness of the bands' playing. The serving staff stayed rooted in place, their mouths open, watching the bartender sing instead of the male vocalist on the piano. She flicked her hands like she was clucking juicy gossip to her girlfriends at the hair salon for her weekly pressing. The band members backed her up by repeating 'see-line' after each line she belted out.

"See-line woman…dressed in red…make a man…lose his head…"

The crowd reveled in the vulgar connotations, and the flute player punctuated her seductive tone with bright accents. She rolled the words off her tongue sensually. People jumped up to dance. Lena gave them the raunchy song they needed to get laid that night.

"See-line woman…black dress on…for a thousand dollars…she wail and she moannnn…."

Lena ran her hands along the sides of her hips and thrust her pelvis three times toward the crowd on the dance floor before twirling in a circle, leading the audience into a lustful frenzy of release.

"Purr like a cat…wink at a man…and he wink back…fuck that man good…and he fuck ya back…."

She stroked the mic stand like it was a long, hard dick and the audience went crazy, repeating the chorus after her like they were her back-up singers. Lena sang the most vulgar version of the song she knew, drawing out shocked and delighted gasps from the crowd. The dancing became frenetic, primal…transcendent. She let the band play, gyrating her hips slowly in such an erotic way that she aroused herself.

Stepping away from the mic, she let the band finish for her.

She walked past Smoke.

His eyes had a shine in them that gave her goosebumps. He called out to her.

"Lena."

She ignored him, returning to the bar where it grew hectic because customers and staff wanted to flock to her with praise.

"Girl, you are so nasty! I can't believe you got up there and sang that!" Bernice cackled.

"My, my, my," Frank said, "Who knew that type of filth could come out of your mouth?"

Lena accepted the compliments with the chiding and finished her shift.

Smoke stayed away from the bar.

At the end of closing, she sighed and rolled her stiff neck. Max put the day's take in the safe and they both snuck a drink of rye whiskey together.

"You were something else tonight, Miss Lena," Max said, clinking his glass with hers. "They ought to hire you for an engagement here at the Sunset Café. Where you learn to sing like that?"

"Hanging with sailors."

"You too young and pretty for those uncouth ruffians down there."

"I'm not that young," she muttered under her breath so Max couldn't hear.

She was neither young nor old. Timeless. Perhaps eternal if she thought about it more.

"Night, Max. Frank," she said.

"Want me to see you out?" Max asked.

"No, go 'head and finish up."

Lena grabbed her hat and the fur coat that Stack bought her and pulled it on. She stuffed her bag of peanuts in the pockets along with her tips for the night.

The air felt crisp and cool against her face. She inhaled, plopped her hat on her head, and headed left.

Smoke leaned against the building with one foot pressed against it. His blue flat cap was pulled low, nearly hiding his eyes.

"Mr. Moore."

"Headed home?"

"Yeah."

He stared at her. She pulled her coat tighter around her middle.

"You have a nice voice. How come you don't sing instead of working behind the bar?"

She sighed and propped herself next to him on the wall.

"That's not the type of life I want to have."

"What kind of life you want?"

"Not sure. But I enjoy working at the bar. I meet all kinds of interesting characters. It's easy. I hear great music for free. I can watch pretty people in their pretty clothes have fun."

"You got a man?"

She blinked and darted her eyes toward the street that stayed active with night owls. He chuckled.

"What, you married or something?" he said.

"No. Nothing like that. Besides, no man would want to marry me, anyway."

"Why not?"

His probing eyes had an earnestness in them that was refreshing.

"I can't have children. A man doesn't want a woman that can't have his babies."

Something flickered behind his eyes and he glanced down at his shoes.

"What about you?" she said.

"What about me?"

"You with someone?"

He shook his head.

"The life I lead ain't got time for a woman in it."

"So why are you asking me if I have a man?"

She turned in toward him. He leaned a shoulder on the wall and faced her.

"Just curious."

"Why?"

"Cuz if you were my woman, you wouldn't be working."

"What would I be doing?"

Lena stepped closer to him. He lowered his head, and she held her breath, waiting for him to kiss her. Although he had the same face as Stack, Smoke carried a maturity that was beyond his age. He gazed at her lips and she puckered them.

"Let me give you a ride home."

He pulled back and Lena stared at him, miffed that she couldn't taste his lips.

"Okay," she said, once she realized he wasn't going to kiss her.

He opened the passenger side of his red roadster and she climbed in. She gave him her address, and they rode in silence.

"Wait, this isn't my place," she said.

He pulled in front of a building that was fancy and exclusive.

"I know. It's my place."

He climbed out of the car from his side and opened up her passenger door. Helped her out.

The distinguished-looking Black doorman tipped his hat at Smoke and opened the door for them. Lena didn't say a word as Smoke clasped her hand in his and took her toward the elevator.

"Evening, Mr. Moore," the elevator operator said.

Smoke nodded and Lena stood next to him. Her hands shook slightly, and a light sheen of sweat dampened the back of her neck and her thighs. There was no playful banter between them, like Stack would've been doing to make her smile or laugh. Smoke stayed solemn as they stepped off the fifth floor.

At his door, she stopped him from turning the key by placing her hand on his chest.

Something changed within him. His heart beat beneath her fingers. He placed his hand softly over hers, keeping it near his heart.

"Why did you bring me here, Smoke?"

"Because you want to be here. With me."

She swallowed hard. Butterflies danced in her belly.

"How you know that for sure?"

"You been tryin' to get my attention for weeks. Now you have it all."

Her eyes welled up.

He tilted his head.

"Why the tears?"

"I didn't think you wanted me. Just about gave up until tonight."

"I'm glad you didn't. I haven't been attracted to anyone like this in a long time."

He kissed her then…so unexpected…so delicious.

His tongue delved inside her mouth and she let go of any need to control the outcome of their encounter.

He pulled away to finish opening the door.

His apartment was neat. Spacious. The furnishings were brand new. It smelled like pipe smoke and expensive cologne.

"Would you like a drink?"

"Please," she said.

She needed time to get her bearings with him.

He went into his kitchen, and she looked around. The view from his livingroom window overlooked another classy apartment building. There were three bedrooms, a pool table, and a card table in a corner. A nice fireplace with a wide mantel showcased the front room. She took off her coat and hat. Placed them on the couch.

"Big place," she said after he handed her a glass of white wine.

"Courtesy of Al Capone," he said.

"Cost you a lot?"

"Cost me nothing," he said with a wink.

He looked around his place as if seeing it for the first time, too.

"I share this spot with my brother—"

Lena coughed, and the wine went down the wrong pipe.

"You okay?"

"Yes. Excuse me. Wine is so good I drank it too fast."

She coughed a few more times to clear her throat and put her glass on his coffee table.

"I kinda miss his noisy ass. He'll be back in another week. Lotta shit happening…some expansions coming up."

"Glad to hear things are going well. The stuff I read in the papers is kinda scary…"

He stood in front of her with an intense look in his eyes.

"You're different," he said.

"I'm sure you say that to a lot of women."

She moved around the coffee table to look at the art on the wall. He hung up his coat and put his hat on a rack near the front door.

Lena noticed a phonograph in the room near the fireplace and went to it. She looked at the considerable record collection they had in a box and picked out a Bessie Smith record. Piano chords punctured the stillness of the room and Bessie's mournful voice sang of wanting a little sugar in her bowl.

"You tryna tell me something?" he said.

"Maybe."

Smoke grinned and his face lit up.

She snaked her hips over to him and they slow-danced.

"You're so much better looking when you smile, Mr. Moore."

"Smoke."

"Smoke."

He kissed her forehead before seeking her lips. His kisses were unhurried, and he nibbled on her neck between moments of using his wide tongue to explore her mouth. They kissed and danced to the music, stretching out the foreplay, learning what type of pace they wanted to have for the night.

Lena unbuttoned the first four buttons of his shirt while he pulled down his suspenders.

"What's this?" she asked.

She touched a small leather bag hanging around his neck. Above it sat a necklace made of two silver coins. He touched the coins first.

"This is a necklace me and my brother made when we were in the war together. He has one too. It makes us feel connected when we're apart, y'know? He's the only family I have out here."

"Are your parents still alive?"

He shifted his gaze to her lips again. Evasive.

"My mother is still in Mississippi. My father…he's dead."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. He was mean… some folks say evil. He wasn't always like that. This right here is my mojo. Been wearing it for seven years. My old lady said it's supposed to protect me while I'm away."

"You're married?"

"I was. Common law. Not anymore."

"What happened? To you and your wife. Why didn't it work?"

Smoke fondled his mojo.

"Me and Annie…that was her name…she and I grew up together. She was a Creole from Louisiana. Her folks came out to Mississippi for work when she was little. We had a baby girl together who passed away real young. Almost two months after she was born. That was a tough time for us, and then the war came and…me and Stack…we went overseas. Never went back."

"She still down there?"

"Yeah."

Lena kissed his hand while it still held the mojo bag.

"I think I would've died had you left me," she said.

"That's all in the past."

"I'm sorry about your baby girl. I bet she was a real pretty little one."

He grinned at the memory.

"She was."

"What was her name?"

"Selah."

"Forever."

"Huh?"

"Her name. Selah. It means forever."

"I didn't know that. Forever…"

"Smoke…"

His lids spilled over with tears. Lena tried to wipe them away.

"I didn't mean to make you sad, I'm sorry Smoke…forgive me…please…forgive me."

He sought her lips and kissed away his sorrow. She gave him the passion she held for him and he groaned with the relief at letting go. Sliding her hands around his neck, she held him close. His hands roamed, learning her curves and soft places. Their body heat grew as passion rose higher.

Lena reached down and squeezed his dick. It throbbed in her hand and she groaned.

"Smoke!"

They both moaned between kisses and he fumbled with the button and zipper of his trousers. He threaded his fingers in the back of her curls and forced her to face the mantel. She spread her arms wide and placed her hands on the surface to steady her body for what was to come. He shoved her dress above her hips. Smacking her ass once through her satin panties, he watched it jiggle.

He was an ass man, for sure.

Yanking down her panties, he pulled down his underwear to free his dick. She gasped when he lowered himself and bit both ass cheeks tenderly, then kissed them before dragging his tongue across the cleft of her backside. He kissed the back of her neck, and then whispered in her ear, "Do you want me?"

She shuddered at the heat in her ear as he plunged his tongue in and out.

"Tell me you want me."

"I want you…I want you Smoke!"

She began mewling as he fingered her clit.

"So wet…dripping…Lena…"

The breathiness of his voice had her stomach flip-flopping.

"Fuck me, Smoke. I want your dick!"

He dragged the head against her pubic hairs, parting the center until he reached her slick labia.

"What do you want me to do again?" he teased.

He nibbled on her ear and fingered her, dipping a tentative index and middle finger inside of her. Wiggling his digits, they both heard the gushy sound of her pussy…so ready for him.

"Make love to me."

"Maybe I wanna fuck instead."

She turned to look back at him. The words out of his mouth said one thing. His eyes said another.

"We can do both," she said, pouting her lips, the red lipstick seducing him more.

He entered her slowly, keeping one hand on the arch of her back and the other squeezing her ass cheek. Those needy eyes stayed on her ass. His thrusts were even, and like his brother, his dick tugged on her clit, giving her the friction to keep her overly aroused. She watched his face while he took her. So intense. His mouth parted as she squeezed his dick, sending tight pulses along his erection. He froze up and let her throw it back on him. By then, his hands hovered above her ass, slapping each orb, thrilled to listen to the loud smacking sound. He grunted, then gripped her hips to control the rhythm. Ecstasy lit up his face. Any thoughts of using condoms didn't matter. The man was in there deep and clapping her cheeks with the care that only an ass man could give.

Lena gave him a show, making her cheeks bounce.

"Fuck girl…dassit…give that shit to Daddy!"

She laughed, and he showed all his teeth with his lascivious smile that revealed gums. His lips bunched up when she hit his spot. She moved forward until she was just fucking the tip and he nearly lost his damn mind. He pulled down the top of her dress, trying to hold a breast, and she got off his dick.

Undressing, she took everything off except for her garters and stockings.

Smoke lusted at her nudity. She trembled. So much desire poured out from him through his eyes.

"Damn, you got some beautiful titties. They just stand up high. And your nipples are perfect. You look like one of them statues in a museum."

Her face warmed up from the compliments.

His eyes dropped to the damp hairs hiding her sex.

He took off his clothes and just let them fall to the floor. His dick was a solid mass of pleasure.

"You like what you see?" he said.

He grabbed his dick and fisted himself for her, letting pre-cum drip onto the floor.

Lifting one of her legs, he plunged back into her and fucked the shit out of her while standing up.

He pulled out of her pussy and threaded his fingers with hers, pulling her toward the back of the apartment. They passed two bedrooms. At the third, he picked her up and gently placed her on his enormous bed. She let him feel all over her body, and she did the same to his. Despite having the same physique as Stack, Smoke had pleasure areas that were distinct. Knowing all of Stack's erogenous zones, Lena had fun discovering all of Smoke's.

"Climb on top, yeah…the other way baby, I want to look at that ass while you bounce on me…damn…Lena…"

Glancing back at him again, she took joy in watching the contortions on his face. She gently rubbed and squeezed his nutsack. It felt heavy and so warm in her hand. Stopping her bounces, she let her pussy cradle his dick in wet warmth. His eyes rolled back, and he luxuriated in the feeling of connection.

Lena turned back around to face him, wanting to kiss him while she made love. They entwined fingers, and she held his hands down on the bed.

"You're riding me like you've been wanting this dick," he said.

"I have. As fine as you are, I'd be crazy not to want all this."

He thrust up, and her clit throbbed. Smoke rubbed gentle circles on it, pulling out soft sighs from her lips.

"Can I cum inside you?" he asked.

"Yes."

Her sweat dripped down on him and mingled with the sweat on his skin. She admired his chest and his mojo bag. Touched the silver coins necklace.

"I can make you feel good all the time, Lena. If you let me."

"I want you to. I want you."

"Yeah? I'm a lot to handle."

"I can handle you."

He thrust up and touched a part of her that brought an explosion of stars into her eyes. The slow rotation of his hips felt like the motion of water. It captivated her. She touched his lips. He kissed her fingers. His hands roamed over her breasts, and he pinched her nipples, making her laugh again in delight. His eyes latched onto hers and they remained quiet, staring at one another and mutually rocking against their hot, sweaty flesh.

The sex was slow. Gentle. Freeing.

Her orgasm rippled in strong steady throbs that knocked the breath from her.

"Smoke! Oh…I'm cumming on your dick…you're making me…ooh…ooh…"

The release stretched across her stomach and brought tingles to her nipples. Her toes bunched at his thighs, and Smoke kept pumping into her, thrusting his hips, stretching her walls…capturing her heart. When her mouth fell open, letting out a groan as the next wave of another orgasm exploded out from her, Smoke's body went rigid and he ejaculated. Her insides throbbed with his dick and it was the perfect start to their night together. Glancing at his face, there were shiny tears in his eyes.

They matched the ones that fell from hers.

Chapter 4 HERE.

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[all-inmoderation]

(rewatching sinners)

OH MY GOD, at the end when Smoke's preparing to fight the Klan, he rips off the mojo amulet Annie gave him. he'd survived everything - survived VAMPIRES - up till that point.

But maybe smoke knew that. knew taking it off meant he could finally join annie and his baby

[hyper-fixation-land]

Smoke’s hat and the year Sinners is set in keeps making me think about the Moore brothers and the Shelby brothers meeting at the front during WW1.

[livingfiction]

So I was thinking:

So how about a modern HUMAN DOM (kink lifestyle) smoke x OC story. Everything about him screams DOM DADDY like DOMINANT DOMINANT ( even though we do see his gentle side) @nahimjustfeelingit-writes I think the way you’ve written him in the hoodoo apprentice is what I have in mind character wise (plus it fits his ACTUAL character per the movie character) you really inspired all this by the way 😂 this was originally just supposed to go to you because I saw you asking for request but I chickened out 🫣 cause it’s so much and I didn’t want to fill your ask with all this

******** @nahimjustfeelingit-writes has an EXTENSIVE master list filled with reading treasures across fandoms and genres so please go have a look and I GUARANTEE you’ll find something to fall in love with. If you’re looking for some Sinners works definitely read her most recent works Hoodoo Apprentice and Route 666!!!*******

NOTE: I KNOW SOME OF THE GIRLS HAVE ISSUES/QUALMS ABOUT SMOKE BEING PAIRED WITH ANYBODY BUT ANNIE SO IF THATS YOU SKIP THIS

he’s a successful business owner-nothing illegal even though there are whispers about him having past ties with the mob(that being how he got the money to build his fortune) which may or may not be true (it is) and that he’s a dangerous man but of course Smoke is incognito and not flashy so he moves in the shadows and a person would never be able to pin him at the scene of a crime. So yeah he got money!!! but it’s smoke so why would he not?? (NOTE: he’s NOT a Christian Grey type-he’s not sitting in offices in fancy suits)

-still has his military background and PTSD. He was on the front lines- going into dangerous situations and he’s seen a lot and had to do a lot to make it out. He was always gonna be a dangerous man but he was TRAINED to be a deadly one too.

-He loves control and order. He NEEDS it. He craves power. Gets off on it and what’s more powerful than having a person be at your mercy. Most high powered men need to relinquish it but smoke? NEVER. And that trickles down to his relationships. Smoke’s not really one for hoeing around per se. He loves sex and has a great admiration and love for women but he’s no playboy. He’s real strict-he’ll break before he bends- and most of his lovers fall under his spell (not just talking dickmatized) and instantly turn into his baby but eventually they come out of the trance.

-His strictness and demands go beyond what some women can handle and smoke wants TOTAL submission. He can tame a brat but he’s not one to play games and he doesn’t need an excuse to punish. He’ll bend you over and wear you out because the sun set 20 seconds too early or the urge simply over took him (and it does often). He’s one to correct problems before they even have a chance to arrive.

-he’s been in committed relationships (though not a lot). He doesn’t commit easily. Not because he’s hoeing or afraid but because he’s a man of his word and being his woman means he has certain duties he has to fulfill for you. So if he doesn’t have the time, energy or desire he won’t stake that claim. His partners that have not been in the BDSM lifestyle enjoy the extreme toys and restraints but they don’t want the LIFESTYLE. They can’t do it 24/7 and smoke has realized that what he wants. What he needs( @keyaho you inspired this aspect because I feel like your R.E.L.L.S story was one of the best DOM/sub stories I’ve ever read because you really went farther and incorporated the LIFESTYLE outside of just sex explored the complexities that come with those kind of relationship dynamics)

****HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU GUYS READ R.E.L.L.S!!! ITS FUCKING AMAZING****

-He’s ALWAYS been dominant in bed. ALWAYS been dominant in relationships. And he’s always had a little tingle to want to take things farther ( he is a man of extremes) but he didn’t know exactly how. He’s used to think he was a sick freak for his fantasies of wanting a woman to be tied up and helpless at his mercy. Or crawling naked across him to the floor to sit at his feet but in his mid twenties (he’s between 33-36 now) he discovered BLACK kink through porn and that’s all she wrote. He felt validated and happy to know that there were other black ppl, especially black women, that were into the kink lifestyle and it wasn’t just some weird white ppl shit.

-Also maybe just MAYBE somewhere in the back of his mind he had some qualms and reservations about liking the more physical aspect of BDSM because of his abusive father/upbringing so he had to do more research and get comfortable because even though many women in BDSM enjoy the punishing spankings and slapping and such he NEVER wants to abuse anyone (which is what makes him a good DOM because he understands that he’s being given a lot of control and trust and he never wants to hurt a woman the way his father hurt him and Stack)

-he began slowly integrating himself into the world. Joining chat forums and began attending play parties where he quickly gained a reputation and became a highly sought after man and highly sought after DOM. Which is why he’s always confused and slightly amused at the internet chatter he sees about black women not being submissive because he always has flocks of beautiful black women BEGGING to serve him and do whatever he wants and requires inside and outside the bedroom (you either got it or you don’t 🤷🏽‍♀️) he leans toward the more extreme side of kink and has fully immersed himself in the small community. He’s a member of a black owned sex club ( he was not going to the white ones to be a BBC fetish) and attends play parties regularly. You see this is an itch he HAS to scratch. He’s met lovely women actually IN the lifestyle but he’s never collared one.

-he was busy building his business and though he often sought to relieve stress with a pretty brown sub many a times and was still attending the parties but didn’t have time to be a full time DOM and he wasn’t one to half ass anything. Even though plenty of women in the lifestyle said they understood and could make it work he declined due to his busy schedule in the early days even if he so badly wanted to. And now that he has more time he hasn’t met anyone in the lifestyle he connected with enough to bring in.

-Make no mistake this isn’t about love or loneliness but about his desire to have his deepest darkest desires filled by a woman he owns and has complete control over (because yes smoke OWNS you-he doesn’t care about being called jealous or possessive. Heard it plenty of times before)

-He’s a southern man so he will always open the door, always carry the bags. No woman of his has EVER touched a bill of any kind. Even the subs he fucks from time to time have gotten lavish gifts and money as tokens of his appreciation. It’s no big deal to him 🤷🏽‍♀️ it’s only money and he’s got plenty. After all it ain’t tricking if you got it. Him giving out a grand he had laying around to that sub that he had tied up, mercilessly punished, and sexually destroyed was just a way to say thank you and I enjoyed it. I mean he did say that and yes she got multiple orgasms to the point where it was painful but hey who doesn’t need money? In the words of famed musical poet lil baby “If I want it, I get it, I pay for it I pay extra, I ain't tryna wait for it”

-despite his gruff exterior (and interior) he really does have a gentle soul. He’s always making sure people are taken care of, especially his women. He has no problem rubbing feet or giving baths and he’s always one to listen to you blabber about your day and give you advice. He’s a man that you can learn from in every avenue of life and never passes up an opportunity to provide wisdom. He does have a personality and a heart and he shows it if you stick around long enough.

-like I said he’s a southern man so he always has his manners but he’s not overly friendly and doesn’t have a lot of friends. Cause truthfully he feels like a lot of niggas are frauds and wannabes. Little boys that want to puff their chests out and play the dominant alpha male but smoke is the real beast in the jungle ( though he would never call hisself an alpha male and does NOT listen to male podcasts or any podcasts- cause why niggas on mics talking about being men when they could simply go do it)

I got more to say but this is already a lot to read so let me proceed 😭

ABOUT OC:

- she’s sweet and soft spoken. She has a kind of gentle strength to her.

- She comes from a struggling family and is the first and only one in her family to go college and that’s put her in a lot of debt.

- She comes from a dysfunctional family where as the oldest daughter she’s often had to be the one to show up and help every one with little to no thanks but no one helps her

- Shes strong willed and used to being independent but she has a bleeding heart and has trouble saying no even when she knows she should

-she managed to get a decent paying entry level job in her field after college but got laid off and has had trouble finding work so she starts working at a high end restaurant as a waitress and that’s where she meets smoke as he out for dinner with his brother.

- smoke frequents the restaurant but he hasn’t been in a few week and he notices her. He’s attracted to her sweet and light hearted nature. Though he notices the deep circles under her eyes and her worn out shoes (which he over hears her getting in trouble about)

- People tip good at the restaurant but she has rent to pay, student loans, and not to mention she’s constantly lending money to family (though they never pay it back) so she can’t save and is barely making ends meet

- Feels guilty about spending money on anything that’s not a necessity

- She REALLY catches smokes attention when stack makes a joke about something BDSM related and asks her opinion and smoke catches that she seems interested though she tried to brush it off

— she hasn’t really had time to explore her sexual side or any other side as her life has become a work, home, eat, sleep, repeat ( which has led to some depression that she’s being medicated for which smoke find out later) though she is curious and wants to try new things.

—one night while she’s waiting for the bus smoke offers her ride to run down apartment in a shady part of town where he makes his offer.

- she accepts simply because he says he’ll give her money (which she’s in desperate need of) he has rules including that she must stay with him but she puts her foot down and says she’ll stay in her ratty apartment ( she feels she needs to keep something for herself in case shit goes bad with him)

- Against smokes better judgment he agrees, says he’ll ease her into things since she isn’t apart of the lifestyle, but gives her a time limit and says she MUST move in with him

- She plans to only sleep with him a few times for money (she has no moral qualms about sex work she just never have the confidence or the experience to do it) and not get too deep into the DOM/sub dynamic (cause as I mentioned before smoke wants a full time sub-not someone for a few one offs but he’s willing to ease her into it) BUT…

- Her apartment gets broken into and ransacked (not that she had shit anyways) by some crack head or who ever in her neighborhood and smoke finds out because of course he has some of the police in his pocket and he demands (not asks) that she come stay with him

-outside of their sexual indulgences she

begins to actually LIVE under smokes rule and explore life in general a little more. She even gets smoke to try a new thing or two with her.

- now reminder this isn’t supposed to be love story at the beginning (though it can become one 🤷🏽‍♀️) or a love at first sight hopeless romantic kind of deal (cause smoke doesn’t give that to me) this is about two people who need something from each other and grow fond of each other and so on

If you have made it to the end of this GOD bless you and I apologize but I just feel the need to get all of my ideas out 😭😭😭 please note these are just SUGGESTIONS and my ramblings that I can’t control. I am in NO WAY demanding that this story be written using my ideas. The whole premise is basically DOM kink lifestyle Smoke x OC. I am not a writer and I appreciate all the time, energy, and effort you beautiful and talented ladies put in to your works of art 🤎🤎🤎🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[titaniasfairy]

i really hope we get to see the deleted scenes when sinners is released on dvd. because i KNOW the bit where slim is telling sammie that the blues wasn’t forced on them like christianity was is longer. i didn’t even notice it the first time i watched it, it was such a small moment for such a big implication to the movie. when it was shown during the dance montage, it was like a flashback. ryan coogler i’ll give you my left kidney for you to release a directors cut i SWEARRR 😔🙏🏻

[umber-cinders]

I really wish people would stop spreading this false rumor. Warner Bros. said they not doing ts if Ryan wasn't interested...and he's not, so like.

Enough already.

[spookysanta]

The Stack Effect. (2/3) (MBJ)

Pairing: Michael B. Jordan x reader

Warnings: smut

Part 1

here's part 2 my loves! enjoy. part 3 will be out tomorrow! :)

She could barely get herself together.

Still flushed, still pulsing, still dizzy from what just happened in that trailer — and he had the audacity to be sweet now.

Michael tugged her close as she adjusted her clothes, fixing a strap that wouldn’t lay flat. He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, then another to her jaw, grounding her with touch even as her legs barely held her up.

“You good?” he asked quietly, brushing a stray hair behind her ear.

She nodded, even though she wasn’t entirely sure. “I—yeah.” Clearing her throat, “I’m fine.”

He smirked. Not cocky. Just knowing.

“You gon’ be fine later?”

She raised a brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“‘Cause I ain’t done with you, baby girl.”

He walked her to her car like a gentleman, hand on the small of her back, thumb rubbing soft circles into her spine. No one from set was around anymore. The sun had started to shift. It felt quieter now. Calmer.

But her body was still buzzing.

When they reached the driver side, he opened the door for her.

“Call me when you get home,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

She nodded again, lips parted. Still dazed.

He grinned. Showed teeth.

That damn gold again.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep without me now.”

The drive home was a blur. Her thighs still sticky. Her phone buzzing with texts every few minutes.

Lover: You good?

Lover: Miss me yet?

Lover: Bet you still feel me.

Lover: Make sure to wear your pink robe. The one with the rose on the back. I want it on when I get there.

She was half-laughing at the absurdity of the situation, and half-horrified at how much she was still throbbing by the time she made it inside.

She showered. Sort of.

Laid across the bed in her pink robe just like he asked. Tried to answer emails. Failed.

Her phone buzzed again.

Lover: On my way.

She didn’t hear him come in.

Didn’t need to.

The door creaked. Footsteps padded down the hall. Then he was in the doorway, leaning on the frame like something out of a fever dream.

Still in costume.

Still Stack.

Full tailored suit. Chain. Gold teeth glistening in his cocky smile.

His eyes darkened the second they landed on her.

“Good girl,” he said, practiced accent molasses-thick. “You listen real good when you’ve been fucked right.”

She sat up, breath catching.

He shut the door behind him. Locked it.

“Missed me already?”

“You were gone for like three hours,” she shot back, flushed.

“Too long.”

He crossed the room, slow and deliberate, and dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed.

“You been thinkin’ about it all afternoon?” he asked, mouth ghosting over her thigh.

She nodded.

He smiled.

“Good. Now lie back. Let me remind you what you left set with.”

He pulled her forward gently. Spread her knees. Kissed the inside of her thigh, her hipbone, her navel. When he finally tasted her, he groaned like it was his first meal in days.

And worshipped her until she forgot her name again.

Later, tangled in the sheets, she whispered, “Why are you still in costume?”

Michael shrugged.

“Thought you liked Stack.”

“I do.”

“Then shut up and let me give you round three.”

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Choose One" Masterlist

Choose One by Uzumaki Rebellion

Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore (characters in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Lena Blackwell (OC).

Warning(s): Mentions of Hoodoo, Explicit Sex, Supernatural Elements, Romance, Some Violence, Polyamory, and Angst. Pre-Sinners movie.

Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.

Chapter 1 HERE.

Chapter 2 HERE.

Chapter 3 HERE.

Chapter 4 HERE.

Chapter 5 HERE.

Chapter 6 HERE

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

[risingoftime]

I FEAR I’VE OUTDONE MYSELF WITH THIS FIC!!!

i’m soooo back. here’s a little sneak peek:

“You feel that?” he panted in your ear with pride. “This pussy is mine.”

You cried out, eyes fluttering shut from ecstasy. “Stack… fuck—” was all you managed to get out before he began grinding himself deeper inside.

Your orgasm was intense and all-consuming, tearing a high pitched outcry to escape your lips as you clenched your walls around him. Stack’s thrusts began to be uneven and passionate as he chased his own high. And just when he was on the edge, body trembling, and his muscles taut against yours…

“Well, goddam!”

Both of your heads snapped to the door. Stack froze inside of you, jaw clenched, with wide eyes at the sight of his twin brother. Smoke stood there, curtly closing the door behind him and leaning against the doorframe like he walked in on a business deal instead of his brother balls deep in another’s soul.

“I come lookin’ for Stack and come to find this.” He gestured between the two of you with an amused look. “Y’all ain't even had the decency to lock the door?”

“Get the fuck out, Smoke,” Stack sounded feral.

Smoke smirked in return, kissing his teeth. “Don’t let me interrupt,” his fingers slipped behind him to turn the lock on the door. “Finish where you left off.”

[leftoverghosts]

🗡excuse me, is this here smoke? or is this stack? don't look at her.

elijah "smoke" moore

swallow you whole

Though his silence could have consumed him, he chooses instead to hold on—for you, for himself—and you match his strength with your own, keeping your lives and Club Juke steady. In the stillness of your bedroom, his whispered promise to be the man you deserve wraps around you with the same tender intimacy as your shared life.

look alive, baby

The old sawmill didn’t look like much, but it meant everything to Smoke and the crew—and to you. As everyone took their roles, you felt part of something real. Then Smoke caught your hand, his eyes full of longing, and pulled you into a private moment behind the office door.

elias "stack" moore

hide and seek

It’s been decades since Stack saw his brother, you, or anyone who remembered the man he was. At a club where his cousin Sammie plays, he spots you, alive and changed, stirring memories of blood, loss, and a love that never died. When he corners you in an alley, your inhuman eyes meet his, and if he still had a breath to lose, it’d be gone.

waiting on a dream

Moving on was hard, but waiting—waiting was torture. Still, you waited, because even through Elias’s sharp words and twisted love, you heard him ask you to. Now, after seven years, he’s back on your porch with a smirk and a drawl, and despite everything, your heart still answers to him.

on the road again

Elias—Stack to most—was all charm and danger, and you knew he was trouble from the start. He pulled you into his bed, then into a reckless plan against Capone himself. Now, headed south with him by your side, regret’s long gone—burned away by his touch and the thrill of the ride.

hello, my loves! it’s been a while, and i know i’m an absentee tumblr mother—smooches, please forgive me. but i’m back now, and to create other things, i had to get the smoke stack twins out of my head! these are mostly self-gratuitous creations—little indulgent projects i made just because i could. enjoy them! also, the sinners movie has me in a chokehold.

i’d like to stress that these bots are not totally canonical, as you are neither annie nor mary (unless you want to rp as them). as always, they're rated mature. mdni.

[faestunna]

for my elias/stack girls…

i will write the first two requests i get for elias (stack) moore! as always, they should follow the rules and may take me a few days to complete!

send your requests here!