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Sinners 2025 - Blog Posts
literally one of the best movies i’ve ever seen. walked out of that theater shaking (bc the movie was SO scary and good) and crying (bc i love music and i love black culture)
SINNERS (2025) dir. by Ryan Coogler
since you're here, please take a moment of your time to read about @samirahmed125 's campaign, which is verified on @gazavetters 's list at number #428:
Ahmed's son, Samir, is in grave conditions as you can see from the pictures posted on their profile. On top of that, the campaign has only reached 33% of its goal! This is UNACCEPTABLE.
Please, show some support to this family by donating what you can and sharing this campaign widely, with anyone you know 🙏
DON'T SCROLL PAST WITHOUT DOING ANYTHING. YOU COULD MAKE A DIFFERENCE IN THIS WORLD BY HELPING THIS FAMILY.
the song scenes (idk what to call them without spoilers) in Sinners are honestly some of the best movie scenes of the decade. each one of them just has so many layers, on top of being visually amazing and the songs all being bangers!
𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬...
I saw sinners (twice)...
I don't even know where to start.
I have so many thoughts swirling through my head at such a rapid speed that I can't control.
it's all a jumbled mess of emotions, think pieces, and of course, possible plots/ideas for fics.
I do plan to watch it a third-fourth-fifth-millionth time the moment I get the chance to, and when I do, the plan is to start posting ... STUFF, idk, some of everything (but nothing is set in stone, though, because y'all know me - my upload speed isn't known for being the fastest in the west🥴).
but until then, send some requests in my inbox for me to look at‼️PLEASE‼️, and in due time, they'll get written.
REAL QUICK BEFORE YOU DO THAT, THO, SOME BOUNDARIES, because as much as i'm usually and typically down for writing whatever/taboo themes, i'm already starting to notice some of y'all cuttin' up and acting a fool sumn' REAL FOUL on here about this movie/these characters...
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- NO, I will not do incest or (specifically in this case/fandom) stepcest (other fandoms I write for are free game - minus actual incest ofc - unless I decide to change my mind and state otherwise idk lol).
- speaking of taboo, though, I will do age gaps (nothing illegal, though, get outta here with that). it's vampire media - if you're coming into it expecting a lack of some questionable gaps, then maybe vampirism isn't for you lmao.
- the reader will be black/black-coded a lot of the time (unless requested/specified otherwise, but also, don't get pissy if I turn down something I don't like) (a.k.a., stay out of my inbox if you can't handle the fact that not everything is about/focused on white ppl).
- I can... try to do modern au's ?? won't be very good at them, fair warning, but it definitely helps if you get creative, and i'm always looking for ways to improve my craft :).
- I will write for...
the twins (obvi) stack (elias) & smoke (elijah) (fair warning, though, i'm picky with plotlines - i've never been an MBJ girly, but i'm IN LOVE with these twins personalities and his portrayal of them, so they might be a little hard for me to write sometimes, might not be other times - my apologies🥲🙏🏽).
bo chow (I could be living in the next town over by train, and i'd STILL find a way to get my ass into this man's shop every single day so I could catch a glimpse of this fine babe😻).
remmick (he's a vampire with a sexy southern-irish accent and a sexy face; need I say more😌?).
maybe sammie (preacher boy)?? (😃✋🏽give me something really good to work with, and i'll see what I can do lol).
and NONE OF THE KLAN MEMBERS,,,
without filter, evil lyssa™ ahead,,, 🥰kys🥰 if you're genuinely out here trying to excuse fucking/writing about fucking a literal kkk member. if all it takes is a deep-voiced southern, "hey, baby" for your morals to escape you, you're a weak minded slut with no backbone, and if you don't like that, get tf up or stay pressed🫶🏽 (notsayingitwasn'tsexyintheheatofthemoment/thewayitwasfilmed, itwas, butagain... STAND UP🗣‼️).
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anyways🥰, with that being said and evil lyssa™ gone, go ahead and rack my inbox up :D !! i'll maybe probably idk be back with some think pieces regarding the movie and its symbolizms/meanings, and some thirst pieces regarding how fine everybody is♡.
'til then, byeeeee /ᐠ^3^マ/ !!
Certain people in fandoms: OMG EW! YOU CAN'T SHIP THEM!! It's morally and narratively wrong!!
Me, the Shippers, and Mutli-Shippers:
Please go watch Sinners NOW
I can't get over how Sinners is such a rich text on assimilation and whiteness and the dangers of "civility" and music as a way to look both forward and back
And it's also a phenomenal vampire movie where a lot of hot people get covered in blood and there's a B plot about eating out girls
Bro’s standing outside the house like he should be holding a Boombox🤣.
Love this Irish vampire🧡💚. I really have to draw him one day.
Oh this Sinners stuff is getting serious 💔
okay it's lowkey getting weird why tf yall making oc's that's the daughter of the damn klan.... yeah please wrap this shit tf up.... QUICKY
YESSSSS LAWDDDDD
Attention
MDNI
Pairing-Elijah*Smoke*Moore x BlackOC
A/N-If you guys have any suggestions or advice I would love to hear it sine I don’t know how to write smexy scenes that good also I love comments so leave those other than that I hope you enjoy lovelies
Summary-Arna returns to the Mississippi Delta and, upon visiting the Smokestack Twins juke joint, captures the attention of a former lover who still harbors some resentment over her departure.
It’s late. Past two zara walk past her sister zara and stack. The juke joint’s about emptied out except for the broken bottles, and the blues.
Arna walk in slow—heels clicking like clock hands on hardwood, time rewinding with every step—and she doesn’t look around. She knows exactly where he is.
The top deck. Alone. Brooding like a storm waiting to remember how to rain.
Smoke’s eyes find Arna before she even reach him. And she feel it. Like heat on skin, like gravity sharpening.
Yeah, you know I see you over there (ooh-ooh)
Girl, you caught my eye (yeah)
He doesn’t smile. He just leans back, one hand on the railing, cigarette barely touched, jaw clenched under the brim of that fedora. The way he watches her walk is criminal. She stand beside him. And she knows what he’s thinking.
Love the way you put it on
Girl, you got my attention
All of my attention, yes
“You always this dressed up when you come to haunt a man?” Smoke asks, voice thick as bourbon and twice as warm.
He looked her up and down, slow. The dress clings to her like a secret. “Only when the ghost’s still breathin’.”
He laughs, but there’s no joy in it. Just gruffness. “You got a mean way of comin’ back, girl.”
Tight black linen, sheer
Perked up in brassiere
Yeah, you got me, uh-huh, uh-huh
Burnin’ up in here
She tilts her head. He's sweating. “Seems like someone didn't forget me,” Arna teases.
Two black five-inch heels
Dressin’ to kill ‘em here
I ain’t sweatin’ these women here
The essence is missin’ here
Smoke shifts forward. His voice drops. “You think I ain’t tried to forget you? Had every reason to. But damn if you don’t walk in like the ending I never got.”
Arna stayed silent. Letting him get it out.
So I’m ready to disappear
Let’s just go, my dear (mm)
She leaned in close, just enough to pull him back in with scent alone. “Then disappear with me.”
His fingers tap the edge of the glass in front of him, untouched. “You still dangerous.”
Arna smiled. “Only to men who lie to themselves.”
‘Cause the way you put it on
Make me wanna take it off you
Got me so amazed, in awe
I don’t wanna wait, no (I don’t wanna wait)
The tension’s tight, like the air just before thunder. They both feel it. The weight of memory. The ache of almost.
Nah, come on
I don’t wanna wait, but you’re stayin’ for the champagne
2 a.m. is creepin’ up, you know how to keep me up
“Still drinkin’ that bootleg you claim aged you?” She tease.
“I been aged,” he mutters. “Liquor just tries to keep up.”
She touch his hand. Not soft. Not slow. Like she meant it. His pulse jumps under your fingers.
No, it won’t be easy, but I’ll be here, believe me, yes (yeah)
She turnin’ me up, am I not tipsy-turvy enough?
Baby, my vision gettin’ blurry, huh
Smoke stares at her like he’s memorizing her again. Like he’s starving.
Blurry enough, but I can still see and I’m certain, ah-ah, mm
The way you light it up in here
Dress shimmer like the chandelier
Diamonds in your ear
“I never looked at nobody like I look at you,” he says, low. “You knew that. Still left.”
Arna look him dead in the eye. “Maybe I wanted you to come find me.”
You makin’ one thing very clear
And baby, when you put it on
There’s no competition
They both lean in at once. Magnetized. Dizzy. So close you forget what holding back ever felt like.
I watch you make a entrance, baby
Yes, and you can tell by my description (you fit it well, and girl)
“I won’t never fail to mention it,” Smoke says, voice cracking like vinyl. “What we were. What we still are.”
I won’t never fail to mention (how you polish every detail)
Losin’ time, tryna go the distance
You got all my attention, baby
I’m ready to disappear
Let’s just go, my dear
He offers a hand. She take it.
No one says where they’re going. Doesn’t matter. They already left the world behind the moment she walked in.
‘Cause the way you put it on
Make me wanna take it off you
Got me so amazed, in awe
I don’t wanna wait, no (I don’t wanna wait)
The door swings shut behind them. The blues music fades.
Nah, come on
I don’t wanna wait, but you’re stayin’ for the champagne
2 a.m., it’s creepin’ up, you know how to keep me up
Arna don’t look back. Neither does smoke .
𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢 𝟑:𝟎𝟎𝐚𝐦
The motel room is dim and dusty, lit only by the neon beer sign flickering through the blinds. Arna barely make it through the door before Smoke has her pinned against it—hat hitting the floor, mouth crashing into hers with the force of everything unspoken between them.
“Thought you were just here to haunt me,” he mutters against her throat. “Didn’t know you came to surrender.”
Her breath catches in her throat. “I didn’t come to surrender.”
He chuckles darkly. “Then I’ma take it.”
One hand snakes up her thigh, dragging her dress high, while the other wraps tight around her jaw—not rough, but firm. Claiming. He forces her head back just enough to look in her eyes.
“You want my attention?” he growls. “You got it, baby. All of it.”
He spins her around, palms flat to the wood, her body pressed to the door as his hips grind up behind her. She can feel him—hard, thick, hungry—and her knees almost give out, but he doesn’t let her drop.
“You don’t get to run this time,” he whispers into Zara’s ear, voice low and gritty. “You gonna take everything I give you, understand?”
She nod, breathless.
“No, baby. Say it.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
He tears the dress down her shoulders, letting it puddle around her heels. His fingers slide between her legs, slow at first—then deeper, wetter, coaxing breathy moans out of her until she’s arching into him. But just when she start to beg, he pulls away.
“You think you make the rules, but this? This is my show.”
She hear the sound of his zipper sliding. Then the thick head of him presses between your thighs.
“Open up for me,” he murmurs, guiding her legs apart with a knee.
And then—he fills her. One deep, devastating stroke that steals her breath.
“Damn,” he groans into your neck. “Tighter than I remember.”
He doesn’t give you time to adjust—he sets a rhythm, deep and slow at first, each thrust deliberate, punishing in how good it feels. Her fingers claw at the door, but Smoke just presses harder into her, one hand tangling in her hair, yanking her head back so he can watch her face in the mirror across the room.
“You see what you do to me?” he pants. “You see how wild you make me?”
Each word is a thrust. Each thrust is a promise.
He bends her forward, one hand gripping her hip, the other slipping under her belly to stroke her clit while he pounds into her from behind—rougher now, relentless.
“You wanted my attention,” he growls. “Now you got me losin’ my damn mind.”
Her moans are ragged, pleading. He knows she’s close, and it makes him even rougher, more possessive. He presses his chest to her back and whispers in her ear.
“Don’t you dare come ‘til I say so.”
“You hear that, baby?”he whispers. “My pussy's talkin’ to me, hm,” he groaned.
The control in his voice makes her knees buckle—but he holds her up, pushing her harder, deeper, until the burn turns to bliss.
Then, finally—“give it to me, baby.”
And she fall apart, shaking, crying out his name as he thrusts once, twice, then groans against her neck as he follows her over the edge.
Silence. Only the sound of breathing, tangled and spent.
He kisses the side of her neck, soft now. “Told you I never forgot you.”
She can’t speak. Can barely stand.
“Next time you leave,” he whispers, “you better take me with you.”
TAKEEEE MEEE
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 ➴ feel free to send me more thots
I would've said yeah
Dear Diary
Summary: Smoke and Stack read your diary to find out you’ve been crushing on Stack more than him.
A/N: This was the dynamic I picked up on; Smoke is mean-ish and headstrong while Stack is playful and easy going.
Word count: 2.9k
Warnings: Sexual content
Looking through her online calendar, Tallie proceeds to make a note of the catering orders for the week ahead.
“Journal time!” She beams, reaching to the shelf for the notebook that keeps her thoughts, experiences and feelings a secret. But to no avail. She searched everywhere for it!
“For a pink fluffy hardcover, it should not be that hard to spot.” She mutters pacing around her room.
Meanwhile…
Smoke is running through the Club Juke ledger, while Stack creates the monthly ad for their social media pages.
“Since when do you keep a notebook?” Smoke asks his twin, pointing at the pink feathered jotter in the midst of their bookstand.
“Do I look like I even like writing?” he replies with a guffaws, lounging on velvet wood settee. With mild curiosity, Smoke wedges the jotter from it's place. The feathers on the spine tickle him as he glides a finger down the hardcover, opening the unknown jotter.
‘Dear diary, Today was a blast at Club Juke! They loved the food and it was great meeting the rest of the team-
“Cute.” a twitch forming at the corner of his lips, remembering the look of joy in Tallie’s eyes. He keeps reading with intrigue.
St and Sm kept me entertained again while doing their meal prep, and boyyyy was I grateful for the distraction. Sm was intimidating (as per usual) so it didn't bother me when he left. St stayed with me tho❤️ I love like when St's around. The playful glint of his eyes and wide stance when he lurks in the hall makes my thigh clench. and his eyes. his muthafreakin eyes! They just draw me in. I’d loveee to see 'em eyes roll back when/if I ride his fac-’
“Woah, that’s enough” Smoke mutters to himself
“You’ll never believe what’s been written on these pages” He shares, passing the jotter over to Stack with the leather tassel bookmark wedged open on the page in question.
Stack collects the jotter with a suspicious glance, taking in the feminine attributes of the dainty pages. He flips it closed to check for a name but there is none, he returns to the indicated page. As he reads, his eyebrows raise, he swallows spit causing his adam apple to bobble, before smirking.
“I think Tallie should swing by… we do need a meal prep soon” He grins, Smoke nods and drafts a note to send.
Back at Tallie’s…
A shiver shocks her bones, a superstition that a conversation is being had on her behalf. The diary is yet to be found and that makes her worry even more. In the wrong hands, it could spoil her good girl reputation. A ding is heard from the laptop resting on her desk; an email notification.
Meal prep requests from Smoke&Stack Twins. (Accept/Decline)
She smiles with relief while accepting the order, it’s always breeze cooking for them. Tallie shoots a quick reply to confirm the time and date.
———
With no luck, her diary remains lost and the appointment with the twins was here. She wanted to write a quick piece before seeing them, it would help keep her feelings at bay.
“I’ll be fine” She assures herself greeting the staff at the concierge and walking up to their floor. Tallie knocks on the door in a cheerfully way while waiting for someone to let her in.
Silence.
“They know I’m comin', right?” She says waiting patiently.
With another knock, a buzz of the bell and no response she lets herself in. The hallway is eerily quiet so she turns on the lights that lead to the kitchen. All the ingredients are already laid out on the prep corner of the kitchen counter. Butter, eggs, sugar, flour, vanilla extract, cinnamon, pecans; seems like the twins are craving pastries this week. Tallie hears a baritone mumble and quickly glances around the open plan room. Lo and behold Smoke has been lounging on the couch, the whole damn time.
“Didn’t you hear the bell?!” She snaps at Smoke, he is the only one present. Her tone is sharp, yes, but not writing in the diary has left her on edge. Especially today... the hidden thoughts were running wild.
Choosing the perfect time to emerge, Stack walks in through the hallway in a regal terry cotton robe. She peers up at his face and eyes him to his feet. His hair is damp with the robe hung loosely around his torso. The belt not fully tied. She glances back up, his eyes already catching her lustful stare. Flustered, she looks down and then back to Smoke, who remains on the couch.
“Is she taking that tone with you or me?” Smoke asks turning to his twin with a mischievous smirk, to which Stack smirks back with a shrug.
“I don’t need to be here.” She whisper but not quietly enough.
“Yeah but you want to be here… don’t you?” The mischief behind his smirk is now exposed as he point to the item in Smoke’s hand. Lifting up his left hand with a sway, you see the features of a very familiar notebook.
“That’s my diary!” She squirms. His back is faced away from her but she knew he is smirking like a cat that caught a canary. The flight or fight response has kicked in. Just as Tallie decides to make an attempt to run and snatch it, Stack strolls over to the kitchen counter shaking his head in warning. She freezes, glancing through her peripheral at Smoke still with her diary held high, the tassel moves…mocking her in an Irish jig. Stack steps closer to hover behind her, reading her bright eyes and steady breaths. The rope frees from its hold and leaves him open, chest bare and clad in fitting undergarments.
She gasps as he turns her flushed against the counter, facing the torment of her lust. His hands rest on the countertop, caging Tallie in.
“Secret’s out brown sugar” He growls into her ear.
Smoke finally turns to face them, striding to the empty counter stool. He positions himself directly opposite Tallie and Stack, still smirking and flipping through the pages. She attempts to nab it back but is left bent at the waist and pressed on the surface. Stack remains behind her, tracing delicate touches across the small of her back. Keeping his hips still but firm enough for her to feel the warmth of his nether regions.
“Give it back!” She barks, suddenly fuelled by desire and fear.
“You need to watch that tone Tallie” Stack warns from behind her, removing his hand from her back and returning it to the countertop. She whimpers at the loss of his warm and rich touch.
“I knew you didn’t see me like how we both see you” Smoke starts “You sure do express yourself more on a page than in person.”
She response with a glare, keeping a sharp gaze on him and her silly little diary. ‘Don’t falter, don’t falter, don’t falter’ she thinks to herself, but Stack's gentle caress on her arm cause a shiver to crawl up her spine and lashes to flutter in want.
“I don’t know… what your talking abo-”
Stack smirks at her denial as he tugs Tallie upright, fitting into the curve of her back as he latches onto her neck. A loud mewl escapes her lips as he savagely nibbles, licks and sucks at the pulsing jugular.
“St-tack” she stutter intwining their fingers, pulling his hand to her bountiful chest.
“Whose eyes do you want to see roll back?” Smoke demands, gloating at her demise. “Seems like it’s yours, huh?”
“W-whaa-?” Another moan slips out as Stack attacks her viciously. She always had a feeling that he had a way, with that thick tongue of his. From watching him wrap his joints to it poking out when he counts a stack of bills. Bring her back to the earthy plane, he eases off her neck moving to nibble at curve of her lobe.
“It is mine?” Stack asks, pressing the stiffening bulge of his thickness against the cleft of her rounded plump cheeks. All this while Smoke remains vigilant, stoic and unbothered.
“I-i want… w-want” she stutters, eyes flickering like a light in a horror movie, unable to handle the balance of Smoke’s smouldering gaze and Stack’s desire-filled touch.
“Talk to us Tallie” Smoke mocks her, still firm in his demeanour.
“I want my diary back!” She cries out in longing and thirst. Being touched but not touched enough left her in a limbo. It felt like punishment. The teasing, the taunting, the edging just because of her silly little diary. These men are a force to worship; more than just their aura, more than just their fierce gaze, everything.
“Still got tha’ tone on her Stack” Smoke says with a shrug of his hands and shoulders “You got work to do.”
He stands up and pushes the diary open on the last entry, the title ridicules her ‘Stack&Smoke twins’. Stack moves away from her space, she whines, eyes begging him not to let go.
“Relax” Smoke whispers smugly.
Stack crouches down, making his way under the flimsy fabric of her summer dress. Comfortably sat on the pristine marble flooring. With the back of his head resting against the cupboard doors, he looks up at her. The eyes that draw her in, the eyes that burn with so much compassion and power.
She looks down in acknowledgement, trapping his head between her warm supple thighs like a cushion. Smoke whistles. Her attention returns back to him as he winks.
“I’d love to give you more, but that diary’s in your hands now.” He states, stroking the tent formed by his covered length. Deviously taking in her expression.
Her breath hitches at the gentle swat across her southern breed cheeks.
“And so it begins” She hears Stack mumble beneath her.
He grips the thighs, holding her in place. The fabric of her panties is transparent, the wetness creating a friction. With the tip of his nose sliding against her covered lips.
His tongue follows the out line of her puffy lips through the fabric. tracing each curve up to her pulsing swollen clit and down to the entrance of her waterfall. He glides along, sucking at the fabric, wanting to taste it all.
“Pll-eease Sttackk” She begs
There’s a tut in the background. Smoke is still root on the chair, captivated at her lust.
“Ask properly” He advises, zoned in on her nipple that tries to escape the fitted blouse.
Stack nips at her inner thigh, swatting her cheeks twice in admonishment. She corrects her fault immediately, knowing what needs to be said.
“P-pl-lease Smo-ke, please Stackkk” She purrs.
With a nod, he pulls her panties to the side and slips in like a thief in the night. Tallie grinds on his thick warm wet tongue, his nose tapping at the clit. Her eyes tear-up and her fingers clenching into a fist, she watches as Smoke beckons her to lean forward. He pulls her bottom lip open, invading he mouth with his thumb. At the same time, Stack swats her again and grips the heated flesh pulling her onto him fully. Not hovering, he wants her whole weight.
The gaze from Smoke was intense, the simultaneous pressure from Stack causes her to buck on him with passion. Tallie sucks hard on his thumb, spit wetting his finger and down into his palm. He snatches his thumb back while maintain the leering look of lust she held in her soul. He moves beneath his hand under his slacks and toys with the tip of his throbbing head, the wetness of her mouth on his thumb giving him enough friction. She mewls in delight as his paces quickens.
Stack isn’t letting up either, her slit is plunged with his fingers and her sensitive nub caressed by his tongue not yet giving her what she wanted. What she truly needed.
He keeps a steady paces dancing around her clit as the wetness pool on his tongue like warm honey, down his goatee and across his face. Tallie lets out an whiny plea, asking for nothing but moaning feverishly.
"She's close" Smoke mutters.
Swats her again in warning, stack reaches the sweet spot and thrashes his tongue. Deperatse for her desire, her juice, her warm honey. Tallie let's go with a screech. She spasms on his tongue riding until her knees buckle, her eyes are back on Smoke wanting to he him finish with her. But he keeps his length hidden from her view stroking it enough to release some tension.
Tallie can feel it. Stack can feel it. Smoke can feel it. It was in the air, the moment, she felt the gravity in the room suddenly drop, then a burst of warmth as he floods Stack with the essence of her womanhood. The twins groans in admiration. Smoke lets go of his length, still tight and hard. Stack just as burdened but makes no more to relieve his discomfort.
It was all about her, these twins were selfless to the core. Smoke walks away snatching the diary from where is fell.
“You off all people should kno’” Stack starts as he stands up, placing a kiss along her chin and down her throat “Closed mouth don’t get fed.”
Tallie still in shock at the energy of the twins, blurts the first though that comes to mind.
“Do I still have to bake?”
“Do you want a bun in your oven?” The twins reply simultaneously.
She watches as they glance over their shoulder to peer at her, mischief written all over their faces.
—The End—
A/N: Watch the movie if you haven’t already!!!! (p.s did y'all notice the play on words with her waiting to be 'let in'?)
Should I write or?!!!!
I'm taking matters into my own hands 😫😫😫
me in the theater when I saw this scene 😫🤭
he’s so sexy i can’t even
yall pls go read this it's too good 😫😫😫🙏🏾
What I Should’ve Said
Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x black reader
Description: TBA
Word: 3,023
A/n: I can’t even describe how surprised and happy I am, by the support and love you guys showed to part one. I am extremely obsessed and in love with these twins, and this is exactly what we all mean when we say we want to pair of Jordans, Amen?
AMEN!
Tag list: @capswife @marley1773 @kxllanxtdoor @berlinswifey @thegreatlibraryofalex @httpsangelsstuff @lovereadingfanfic @li-da-savage @reci1996 @nbanenefrmdao @theonekaysstuff @kpopslur @fjssdfb @zane2408 @saik-k @childishgambinaax @k4kashin @keliwel
Part 1 - I Never Told You
Elias?” You mumbled, staring at the scene in front of you in horror.
Blood. All the blood. It was all you could focus on—the crimson liquid seeping from the side of Stacks’ neck, painting the ground in a gruesome tapestry of life and pain. Stacks, who was withering on the ground, struggled to move, his body twitching as if trying to fight against the inevitable.
The next thing you heard were gunshots, sharp and echoing in the air, as Smoke lit Mary up, each bullet finding its mark in her body. Just when you thought the chaos couldn’t escalate further, she dropped to the floor, only to rise again, defying the laws of life and death. Your ears were ringing from the close proximity of Smoke’s gunfire, but all you could see was Stacks.
As you inched toward him, desperate to reach him, Mary bolted toward you, pushing you out of the way with a force that sent you sprawling to the ground.
Hastily, you scrambled to your knees, crawling as fast as you could toward Stacks, your heart racing.
“Elias!” You screamed, horror twisting your voice.
There was an entire chunk of skin missing between the top of his neck and shoulder, a gaping wound that made you feel sick. Without a second thought, you tore off your shawl and pressed it against the injury, your hands trembling. Smoke, his face a mask of fury and fear, lifted his twin brother slightly, cradling his head in his lap.
“She fucking bit me, baby,” he coughed out, his mouth stained with blood, each word a struggle.
“Smoke, what do we do—?” you stammered, panic creeping into your voice.
“Fuck, just hold it!” he barked, his own desperation evident as he tried to help you stem the flow of blood from Stacks’ neck.
“I’m sorry,” Stacks wheezed, the sound barely escaping his lips. You felt one of his hands tap your elbow weakly.
“I don’t care! I don’t care about anything else; I just need you to stay with me, okay?” You begged, tears streaming down your cheeks as you kept pressure on the wound with one hand and reached down to hold one of his.
He squeezed your hand back, but only for a moment. You felt his grip loosen, and that arm fell limp, a chilling realization settling over you like a dark cloud.
“Elias, please!” you cried, your voice breaking as fear clawed at your insides.
“I love you,” he said, looking you dead in the eye, his gaze piercing through the pain, though his own eyes were mere slits now.
“I love you, big brother,” he murmured this time to Smoke, the words a whisper of tenderness amidst the chaos, before a gurgling sound escaped his lips, followed by an eerie silence.
“Elias?” You called, your heart racing, but there was no response.
“Elias!” You shouted again, desperation flooding your voice as you shook him gently, hoping against hope for a miracle.
But he was gone.
The world around you faded into a blur, the sounds of gunfire and chaos dimmin' as the weight of loss crashed down upon you like a heavy shroud. You felt a coldness seep into your bones, a chill that had nothin' to do with the night air—it was the icy grip of despair.
“Elias…” you whispered, his name hangin' in the air like a haunting melody, a promise left unfulfilled.
You couldn’t move. All you could do was stare at your hand clutchin' his. His hand was quickly turnin' cold, life leavin' him with every passing second.
Smoke's face twisted in agony as he cradled his brother, the bond of twinhood shattered in an instant. You could see the rage buildin' within him, a storm of emotions that threatened to erupt at any moment, ready to lash out at the world for takin' his brother away.
“Smoke, we have to move the body outside,” you urged, your voice shaky.
“Ain’t nobody touchin' my brother,” he seethed, fury and heartbreak intertwining in his words.
Coverin' your mouth to choke down another sob, the reality that Stack was no longer here played on a loop in your mind, a cruel reminder of what you’d lost.
“Y/n, you too, baby,” your sister said gently, rubbin' your shoulders, tryin' to coax you into movin'.
With trembling hands, you reached out, runnin' your fingers softly over his forehead before pressin' your own to his. You closed your eyes, wishin' for one last moment, one final chance to tell him how you felt.
“I should’ve told you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, “I should’ve told you how much you mean to me.”
Your lip trembled as you leaned over, placing a tender kiss on his forehead, a goodbye you wished you didn’t have to say. Annie helped you up and out of the room, her grip firm yet comforting.
You paused at the doorway, lookin' back at Stack one last time, the sight of him still feelin' unreal.
“Come on, y/n,” Annie urged, her voice gentle yet insistent. You turned your gaze to your sister, who could see the hurt and pain in your eyes. Her heart ached for you and for her lover. Tears flowed freely down your face.
“I didn’t get to say it back, sista,” you whispered, the weight of your unspoken words hangin' heavy between you.
Haint.
That’s what your sister thought it was, but you all quickly found out she wasn’t too far off.
See, a Haint, in plain terms, was a malicious ghost. Restless spirits who, for some reason, hadn’t moved on.
But no.
No Haint would be handled between you and Annie, but vampires? That was a whole 'nother beast.
This was another type of evil you weren’t equipped to deal with. Not one that wore the face of the person you loved. When you saw him walkin' back up to that front door, lookin' alive as if nothin' had happened, givin' you that signature smirk, gold ones shinin’ like it was any other day, you were floored. You wanted nothin' more than to reach out, grab him, and make sure he was real.
Once Smoke closed the door, it stood still in front of it, unmoving. You prayed this was all a joke. You prayed Stack would just walk through that door and tell you that everything was gonna be okay.
But that didn’t happen.
You weren’t sure how he knew you were still on the other side of the door while the others were further away, tryin' to come up with some sort of plan, but you began to hear him whisper your name.
Or did you?
You weren’t sure what was real or fake anymore, and it was startin' to drive you mad. The voice of one of your very best friends askin' you to open up, plead in' with you, tryin' to assure you that everything was okay and nothin' was as bad as it seemed.
“Bam.” You shut your eyes tight as the sweet, silky voice of the man you loved coaxed you from the other side of the door.
“Elias, please,” you whispered, your voice tremblin' with confusion and longing.
“Open the door for me, Bam.”
“Just… I don’t understand,” you stammered, your heart racin' as it fought against the logic of your mind.
Your brain knew the truth. It wasn’t him. But your heart didn’t care, and right now, the two were at war with each other.
Everything you and your sister had grown up knowin' about magic and creatures that go bump in the night—it was all real, and it was literally at your front door. Yet, your heart struggled to see anything but Stack.
The man you had fallen so deeply in love with when you were just sixteen—the man you were still hopelessly in love with now. Except now, there was no longer a livin', breathin' Elias, but rather somethin' undead.
Vampire.
“Just open up for me, and I promise you, everything is gonna be okay, baby.” His voice flowed like honey, each word drippin' with the kind of sweet reassurance that used to melt your heart.
“Elias…” you breathed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions, a fragile whisper that barely escaped your lips.
“Open the door, Bam.” This time, his tone was still gentle, yet there was an undeniable firmness to it that sent your heart racing, pulling you in like a moth to a flame.
“I can’t do that,” you sniffled, not bothering to conceal the hurt that laced your voice. “It’s not really you, ‘Lias.”
You pressed your forehead and hand against the door, wishing for nothin' more than to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin against yours, to bring him back to you in any way that you could.
“But I am, Y/n. It’s still me, girl. There’s only one me, baby.” He joked in that familiar way that made your heart swell, even now, even in this twisted moment. “I’m just… better now. Everything is so much better.”
From the outside, Stack leaned against the door, his forehead pressed against the same spot where you stood, as if he could feel your presence through the wood, tethered to you by an invisible thread.
“No fear, no pain. Shit’s just beautiful.” You listened, entranced, as he went on, his voice smooth and enticing, painting a picture of a world where everything was normal. “And you’re beautiful.”
Mary, who had originally stood by giggling, enjoying the show of what she thought was her man trying to gain entry into the juke joint, recoiled at his words, her expression shifting from amusement to disbelief.
The hive mind they had formed once connected to Remmick allowed her to see into Stack’s thoughts as well. It wasn’t what she thought it would be.
Inside Stack’s mind…
Once he became part of the hive, she assumed his deepest, most inner thoughts would be of her—of their love, their connection.
But what was funny was that the bond they shared was nothin' more than the connection of two people who loved the same person back.
See, while Stack may have loved Annie, he breathed you.
It changed the landscape of her emotions as the vampire form tried to reason within, but deep down, she knew.
Stack was never really hers.
He was yours.
He always would be.
“You are beautiful, and you will be beautiful—on the outside and the inside,” Stack spoke convincingly, his tone a mix of charm and desperation that echoed in your chest. “And you and I? We will be together. No problems, no worries.”
Your fingers played with the latch on the door, the metal cool against your skin. You knew you couldn’t invite him in, but wouldn’t it be okay if you just looked at him? If you could see him, talk to him face-to-face, maybe you could reason with him. Fix him.
“We want you,” Stack said from the other side, his voice dripping with longing, like a lover’s whisper in the dark. “I want you.”
“But Stack—” Mary tried to interject, her tone tinged with concern, but one sharp look from him silenced her instantly.
“Shut up, bitch,” he seethed, the darkness that filtered into his voice made you recoil, snapping you out of the trance you didn’t even realize you were in, the warmth of his charm replaced by a chilling edge.
“I just want you,” he repeated, urgency creeping into his voice, raw and desperate. “It could be me and you.”
“Now open the fucking door!” Stack screamed, the sound of his fist slamming against the wood made you jump back, colliding into Smoke, who you hadn’t realized was standin' there, along with the others—watchin' you with sad, worried eyes as you broke down.
Smoke gently took one of your hands and squeezed it tight, his other hand resting on your back, guiding you away from the door toward Annie, a protective shield against the darkness.
“Come on, sister. You got to stop torturing yourself.” Annie’s voice was low and steady, filled with concern that wrapped around you like a warm blanket.
“Get the fuck on outta here, Stack!” Smoke threatened, takin' your place at the front door, ready to protect you from whatever darkness loomed on the other side, his stance firm and unwavering. “Fo’ I give you the pain you lookin’ for.”
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve already won,” Stack said, his voice dripping with a mix of confidence and something darker, leaving a chill in the air that seeped into your bones.
You struggled to catch your breath, disoriented and unsure how you ended up in the back of a car. The vehicle felt foreign, likely belonging to someone who had come to enjoy the evening’s festivities, not knowing what they’d fall victim to.
The world around you faded into a blur, drowned out by the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart.
You blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog from your mind. Each time you shut your eyes, the horrific memories of the last half hour flashed before you like a relentless slideshow.
Grace. Taunted by Bo before she snapped, letting the horror in.
“Bam.”
Those of you who remained inside the juke joint were doing your best to arm yourselves before the undead descended upon you, ready to invade your sanctuary.
You blinked rapidly, feeling tears swell in your eyes, the last wave of grief crashing over you as you closed them tight.
You watched Delta sacrifice himself, as you felt Mary’s claws sinking into your abdomen, her whispers echoing in your mind at the memory of her claiming him as hers, before being suddenly thrown away from you.
“Bam.”
All you could do was watch as Smoke hovered above Annie, who had spared you a glance. She was muttering words you couldn’t understand; your ears filled with a deafening white noise.
A moment later, you watched your sister’s husband drive a stake through her heart. You could feel her essence leaving this plane, taking a piece of you with her as she slipped away.
“Bam.”
Everyone was gone. The people you grew up with, the ones you loved—they were all dead or turned to the undead. You looked down, the vision of your hand blurring in and out of focus as you felt something slick coating your fingers.
Blood.
This time, the blood on your hands was yours.
“Come on, Bam, look at me.” A voice said softly.
You blinked hard, your vision clearing as you finally focused on the face before you.
“Elias?”
A feeling you couldn’t quite describe washed over you. You were torn between wanting to scream and shout or attempting to run away, even though deep down, you knew you were in no condition to do so. You should be scared of him, but you didn't have the energy to feel fear. You were dying.
The air around you was thick with dread, the acrid smell of smoke and blood mingling in your nostrils, a stark reminder of the chaos that had consumed the night. With your last few moments in this lifetime approaching fast, you considered it might be a blessing to lay eyes on the face of your soulmate one last time.
With a shaky hand, you reached up, caressing the side of his face gently, yearning for the warmth that once radiated from him.
Stack let out a sigh of relief, the sound echoing in the stillness. You had been in and out of consciousness for what felt like an eternity as he picked you up and carried you away from the madness.
Stack looked down at the spot you’d been holding, your dress now darkened with blood, a stark contrast against the fabric.
The scent of you flooded his senses, and he couldn’t help the drool that pooled in his mouth, salivating at the thought of how you would taste. Yet, he fought against his new nature, focusing solely on you.
“Did you mean it?” you choked out, bringing his attention back to your face, your voice a fragile whisper.
“I did. I do.” He confessed, relishing the warmth of your touch against his cold skin. “I’ve been in love with you since I was a youngin’. I’ll always want you, even if you don’t want me.”
You looked into his glowing red eyes, filled with sincerity, and a pained laugh escaped your lips, tinged with irony.
“Even undead, your insecurities are screamin’,” you smiled, your teeth stained with blood. Your fingertips caressed his skin, grateful you could finally see him one last time. “I never wanted Smoke, Elias. I only ever wanted you.”
“I ain’t ever been nobody’s but yours, Y/n.” His rough voice whispered, filled with longing. “I will always be yours. I just need you to stay with me.”
You thought about it. Everyone else you loved was already gone, and you felt a hollow emptiness where your heart was supposed to be. You were on the brink of death yourself.
“C’mon now. I need to hear you say it. Tell me you wanna stay.” Stack pleaded, feeling your heartbeat slow beneath his fingers. He cradled your head in his hands, desperate for you to focus on him.
He wanted you to stay with him forever, but he didn’t want to take away your choice. He had taken enough from you tonight already.
“Please don’t leave me.”
Your thumb ghosted over his lip, and even half-dead, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him one last time.
Did it have to be the last time?
“I wanna stay,” you whispered through half-lidded eyes.
It was then Stack kissed you, kissed you the way he had pictured so many times before. You reciprocated, both of you ignoring the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. When you pulled apart, he kissed your forehead a few times before resting his on yours. He then took your hand in his, kissing your palm, then your wrist.
“It’s gon’ be alright, don’t you worry. I got you.”
Then he bit you.
YESSSS I LOVE BOTH PLS TAG MEEE
me waiting on yall to make these sinner fics 😭🧍🏾♀️
me waiting on yall to make these sinner fics 😭🧍🏾♀️
Sinners (2025)
…What it looks like when you get a pair of Jordans®….
Sinners (2025)
Sinners (2025)
…From the Director that brought you Creed & Black Panther, Ryan Coogler drops the film ‘SINNERS’ tomorrow (April 18, 2025)…
Set in the middle of the 1930's, during the height of Jim Crow South, this film follows twin brothers that return home to not only face the extreme and violent racism of the era, but also confront another very deadly & ominous evil….
Starring Michael B. Jordan, Hailee Steinfeld, Jack O’Connell & Delroy Lindo.
I love how community was always at the forefront of sinners
Smoke and that lil girl in the car, him trynna teach her in their small time together how to value your time and demand what you deserve
Even though Delta Slim and Sammie had that one lil spat in the beginning, Slim being so fierce in his protection of Sammie. Slim going out his way to teach Sammie the way, making sure he introduced himself. Setting him straight bout his music coming from somewhere good and not the devil like his father said. DYING for him
Bo always having the twins back and being reluctant to leave, the genuine glee he had at seeing Smoke. Grace thrown off by Stack not being with Smoke cause she knew em so well to know they should be together
Annie protecting not only Smoke but ALSO Stack when they weren’t together in her own ways.
Annie and Mary being Visible next to each other as much as possible. Mary literally screaming out in horror and snapping out of the hive mind at Annie’s death.
Stack being mad at Smoke bc it was supposed to be them against the world forever. Annie and Smoke, Mary and Stack, a family.
Annie saying “not you” when she realized it was Stack biting her because he ment so much to her, on the flip Stack spefically going after Annie so he could secure their immortal family.
That quite tense moment between Smoke and Mary after their lil argument bout Mary mother, the wordless conversation had as they both sat in silence.
The brothers putting their money where their mouth is and always giving the cash to patch up the ppl they fucked up.
“By us for us”
Cornbread face deeply sorry explaining why he couldn’t make it to Mary’s mother funeral cause he had to make quotas.
Everyone bucking up at the thought of Remmick taking Sammie, Smoke putting himself in front of everyone. And when he faltered at the sight of his literal other half in front of him turned, everyone being there to bring him back.
Even Remmick in his deeply twisted way just wanted back to his community, everyone else be damned (with him). His want to bring everyone together in his hell on earth. His yearning to find community in another person who was like him even if he no longer had those powers (I’m going off the bases that he was a his peoples version of a Griot, which I believe is a Fili)
Can we discuss how likely it was Stack was still inside the juke joint and it was the reason why the place had been locked up? So yeah Smoke killed the kkk for revenge but also it was his final act of protecting his brother who would have died had sun light been let in???
Also the fact that Stack could have watched everything and been the one to give Smoke a proper burial in the end? I just hate how they were separated in life and death. So unfair!
They really said^
The funniest part of Sinners was when the Native Americans just said “yeahhh good luck with that”
Annie: There are legends of people born with the gift of making music so true, it can pierce the veil between life and death; conjuring spirits from the past...and the future. In ancient Ireland, they were called Filí. In Choctaw land, they called them Fire Keepers. And in West Africa, they were called Griots. This gift can bring healing to their communities. But it also...attracts evil....
Sinners (2025)
I (and probably a lot of other people) found the garlic test scene in Sinners reminiscent of the blood test scene in John Carpenter's The Thing but I just thought of another scene in Sinners that reminded me of Carpenter's 1982 horror classic. Spoilers for both The Thing and Sinners btw.
When we are first introduced to the vampire Remmick he is being hunted by Choctaw vampire hunters. He seeks shelter with an American couple who offer him protection from his pursuers. The lead hunter warns them of Remmick but is ignored. Remmick then kills the couple and assimilates them into his vampire hivemind.
The Thing opens with the Thing (in the disguise of a dog) being hunted by Norwegian researchers. The Thing seeks shelter with a group of American researchers who protect it from its pursuers. One of the Norwegians tries to the Americans of the Thing but he isn't understood and is ignored. The Thing then kills the Americans and assimilates them into it.
In both movies a creature pretending to be something it isn't (a human and a dog) is being hunted by a group of non-English speakers. The creature seeks shelter with, and is offered protection by, a group of Americans. The non-English speakers attempt to warn the Americans of the creature but are ignored. The creature then kills the Americans and makes them one with it. The non-English speakers who were hunting the creature are also never seen again after their introductory scene (the Norwegians are killed when they try to kill the Thing and the Choctaw just leave the moment the Sun goes down).
Coincidence? Maybe, but I wouldn't blame Ryan Coogler for taking inspiration from The Thing. Both movies are amazing and I love them.
Edit: Another user pointed this out to me and I really thought I should mention that there's a distinct difference between why the Norwegians are ignored and why the Choctaw are ignored. In The Thing the Norwegian's warning is ignored due to a language barrier. None of the Americans speak Norwegian and the Norwegians can't speak English, so they don't understand what he is saying. Meanwhile in Sinners the lead Choctaw warns the wife of the danger of Remmick in English but she willingly ignores him because the couple are Klan members (or at least the husband is), of course she's not going to listen to a group of Native Americans especially after a white guy told her that they raped and murdered his wife.
In The Thing it's a misunderstanding between two groups who don't speak eachothers language that causes the warning to be ignored but in Sinners it's because of the couples racist beliefs and preconceptions of Native Americans.
As an Irish person I loved the inclusion of the Irish experience in Sinners and how it is comparable to that of black people and the Native Americans. The Irish were colonised and forcefully converted to Christianity, we were stripped of our language, culture, land and religion similarily to the people of the African and Native American tribes. Hell, when Irish immigrants first came to America they weren't even considered white (which really goes to show how arbitrary the term 'white' really is). The Rocky Road of Dublin scene is just so great. To have a mainstream film feature a character sing a traditional Irish jig and do some Irish dancing is so cool, plus the song straight up slaps. I love this movie so much, it better get all the awards.
That being said, just because Remmick suffered at the hands of the British does not justify all the terrible stuff he does. He is still very much the villain of the film.
remmick and the vampires present a false dichotomy
Hogwood (the man who sold the twins the mill) and the KKK are very obviously bad, they are outright malicious bigotry, they use the n-word and plan to lynch the moore's and their community, they are so blatantly racist and hateful it's unavoidably obvious
remmick and the vampires however say that they believe in equality, say that they want to create a community, and yet remmick's goal throught the movie is to both metaphorically and literally steal sammie's ability for his own goal of reconnecting with his irish ancestors, a white man wants to harm a young and upcoming black man and use talents for his own goals without giving any regard to said black man's autonomy or agency
when sammie sings 'I lied to you' in the juke joint and calls forth the spirits from the past and future, it's a blend of cultures; west african, east asian, native american, and african american song and dance blend together across time and space to tell the stories of blues; where it takes its inspiration from, the music genres it then inspired, the complex history of black american culture and its intersections with other peoples of colour in the USA
when remmick and the vampires kill and turn the people in the juke joint, and then perform rocky road to dublin, only remmick's irish culture is on display, there is no influence from the black and asian people he has forcibly assimilated into his song, it's juxtaposition with the earlier scene is blatant, remmick is more than happy to assimilate people of colour into his 'community' of 'equals', and yet its only whiteness that is celebrated, that is normative
remmick claims that he's doing people a favour by turning them immortal, conviently ignoring that he literally has to suck the life out of them to do so, trapping their spirits on earth, he claims that he's the good guy, that the KKK were gonna come and lynch everyone at the joint in the morning anyways, conviently ignoring that he's doing the exact same thing; a white man leading a mob to kill a bunch of black people
in the final confrontation with sammie remmick repeatedly dunks him into the river, a forceful baptism. both the celtic irish and enslaved west africans had their religions suppressed and destroyed by colonialsm, had christianity forced upon them by the british empire, and in that scene we see remmick repeating that cycle, using christianity to inflict harm, and sammie reclaiming christianity, despite all the complex emotions he has arround it, as many colonised peoples have and still do, when he recites the lord's prayer
remmick and the vampires are no less racist than hogwood and the KKK, are no less predatory or evil, they're just less blantant about their bigotry, they represent the system, the normalised white supremacy that is seeped into the very foundation of culture in america, the point isnt that remmick would call any of the black characters in the movie the n-word, i dont think he would, the point is that his exploitation and desacration and inserting-himself-into-when-he-wasn't-invited of the juke joint is a microcosm of what white people have done to black american arts and culture since ever since there have been black and white people in america, and even before that
theres a reason vultures are shown early on in this movie
Vampire!Reader X Boris Pavlikovsky (Adult)
