#bo chow x fem!reader

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

PLEASE MAKE MAKE A FIC WHERE YOUR TRAPPED IN A REALLY CLOSED SPACE W BO

Please I love youuu😫🙏🙏

Tight Quarters||Bo chow x Fem!reader

Explicit MDNI 18+

Word Count—2.2k

Warnings: smut (P in V), fingering, biting, bloodplay, dirty talk, size kink, rough sex, claustrophobia kink, predator/prey dynamics, mild dubcon (reader is into it), power imbalance, vampire teasing, harsh language borderline hate sex

Summary—Locked in a closet with Bo Chow, the vampire who’s been getting under your skin for weeks, things heat up fast. The space is tight, the danger outside is real, and Bo’s not the type to waste an opportunity especially when he can hear how fast your heart’s beating. With nowhere to run and too much unsaid between you, he pushes every button you’ve got until resisting him isn’t even an option.

@abriefnirvana

The storage closet wasn’t supposed to lock from the outside.

You found that out about two seconds too late—just long enough for the heavy metal door to slam shut behind you, locking with a clang that echoed like a gunshot. Now you’re pressed up against the back wall, shelves digging into your spine, and Bo Chow is standing way too close.

Correction he was looming over you.

His tall frame blocks most of the light from the single emergency bulb overhead. Shoulders broad. Arms crossed. Fangs barely hidden behind a smug fucking smirk.

“Cozy,” he says, voice rich and low, eyes flicking over your body like he’s deciding which part to eat first.

You cross your arms tighter. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh, I’ve been thinking about it,” Bo murmurs, stepping forward. The distance between you shrinks fast, suffocating and electric. “Weeks now. Ever since you got blood on my favorite shirt and looked at me like you wanted me to pin you to the wall.”

You scoff, trying not to show the way your thighs clench. “I looked at you like that because I wanted to stake you.”

“Mmhmm.” He tilts his head, tongue flicking over a canine. “Funny how close those looks can be.”

Your back hits the wall. Bo doesn’t touch you yet but he plants one hand beside your head, gaze hungry. The air’s thick with tension. You’re aware of every inch of him. The way his body radiates cold. The way he smells like blood and smoke and something more primal. The way your chest rises and falls faster than it should.

“I’m serious, Bo,” you whisper, trying to ignore how your pulse is hammering. “We’re trapped. This isn’t the time.”

He leans in, lips a whisper from your neck. “Baby, it’s the perfect time.”

You hate the way heat pulses between your legs at the sound of his voice. You hate that he knows it, too.

Because of course he knows. He can hear your heartbeat stuttering, your breath hitching, the way your scent changes. Predator instincts, vampire bullshit. He’s always had the upper hand. But here, now, with you trapped together in a tiny dark closet, he’s playing a different game.

One that ends with you begging.

His hand trails down your side, fingers brushing your waist, your hip, the curve of your thigh. Not touching where you need him. Just letting you know he could.

“You keep pushing me away,” he murmurs, nose dragging along your jaw. “But your body’s honest. Bet if I slipped my hand down those pretty little pants, you’d be soaking for me.”

Your breath hitches.

“Not denying it,” he chuckles darkly. “Want me to prove it?”

You mean to say no. You do.

But what comes out instead was “Do it.”

Bo doesn’t need more than that.

His hand dips under the waistband of your pants hot, fast, greedy. Two fingers slide through your folds and come back slick. His grin turns wicked.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice tight. “You’re so wet for me, sweetheart. Gonna let me play with you?”

You nod before your brain catches up.

And then you’re gasping his fingers circling your clit with slow, devastating pressure, teasing at your entrance but not entering. Your hips roll against his hand, chasing more, but he doesn’t give it. Not yet.

“You’re gonna be good for me, yeah?” Bo growls, pressing you harder against the wall with his body. “Let me have a little taste?”

Your head tips back, baring your neck. That instinct submitting to the monster sends another rush of heat to your core.

He doesn’t bite. Not yet. Just licks a stripe up your throat, cold tongue sending shivers down your spine.

“So fucking sweet,” he mutters. “Gonna fuck you right here. Right up against this wall. Quiet, though—unless you want the hunters to hear you moaning for me.”

You want to tell him to shut up. You want to call him an asshole. But what comes out is a whimper as he sinks two fingers into you, curling just right.

Your knees buckle.

He catches you easily, one arm sliding under your thighs to lift you like you weigh nothing. Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct.

“You’re gonna take me like this, baby,” Bo breathes, grinding against you. “No prep, no warm-up. Just my cock stretching this pretty pussy open.”

You grind back, desperate now. “Then do it.”

That’s all the permission he needs.

You feel the blunt head of his cock press against your entrance, and then he thrusts in, slow but unrelenting. Stretching you wide. Filling you completely. You cry out, biting your lip to muffle the sound. It’s too much, too good, too deep.

“Goddamn,” Bo groans. “You were made for this. Fuck.”

He sets a brutal pace, fucking you against the wall like a man possessed. The slap of skin, the wet sounds, the little noises you can’t suppress—it all echoes in the tiny space, obscene and delicious.

His fangs graze your throat, and this time, when he bites, it’s gentle a nick. Just enough for blood to leak.

Bo groans like it’s his last meal.

“Gonna cum for me?” he whispers, licking the wound, still fucking you deep and hard. “Gonna squeeze me tight and soak my cock like a good girl?”

Your whole body trembles. The pressure coiling in your belly snaps all at once white heat flooding you as you cum around him, gasping into his shoulder.

Bo doesn’t last much longer. A few more thrusts and he’s spilling inside you, groaning your name like a curse, like a prayer.

For a moment, there’s only ragged breath and your pulse in your ears.

Then Bo pulls back, still buried inside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“You’re lucky I like tight spaces,” he murmurs, lips quirking.

You slap his chest, breathless. “Asshole.”

He grins wide, eyes glowing faintly red in the dark. “You love it.”

And maybe you do but you weren’t going to say anything about that.

[bluudsucka]

juna - bo chow x tomboy!reader

chapter I - chapter II

summary: you were never in touch with your feminine side, being raised by your father and older brothers you knew built a tough exterior. always opting for wearing male clothes and sporting a short haircut, but that was until you stopped at the new local convince store and met bo.

word count: 7k

warnings: smut, female reader, awkward/shy reader, slight mentions of race, loss of virginity, oral sex, noncanonical setting, unprotected sex, slight age gap (nothing too crazy reader is in her early twenties while bo is in his late 20s/early 30s), mentions of other characters

author's note: i had a lot of fun writing this! this is my longest fic i ever wrote so far, so thank you for reading and thank ya'll for the support! <3 (i was also listing to juna by clairo while writing bits of this haha)

“You make me wanna go dancin’, you make me wanna try on feminine, you make me wanna go buy a new dress, you make me wanna slip off a new dress...” 

The blistering summer sun nipped harshly at your skin, sweat from the heat and a hard day's work clung onto your chest and forehead while driving your father's rusty car, you'd hope you could pick up a breeze to cool you down. 

That of course didn't happen. 

He sent you into town with a shopping list of materials your household needed - and seeing as your mother passed last year - it was your duty as a woman to go out and shop for the boys, as your father so 'eloquently' put it. His remarks about your gender bothered you seeing as you were responsible in the cooking and cleaning while also being responsible with manual labor on the farm too. 

It was common to help your two older brothers fix run down and broken appliances such as rickety barn doors, leaky faucets, and wobbly banisters. Your hands were covered in cuts, scabs, and blisters from hammering away for hours. It didn't help that during those hours of work your brothers would tease you about not being 'girly' enough, jesting that you were more of a man than them both combined. It also didn't help that your family's budget was tight, meaning you had no choice but to wear their hand-me-downs.  

With a tired sigh you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, finally entering the town. The dusty and bustling streets was lively today despite the cruel heat wave that clung on the Mississippi air, breathing in the hot oxygen was like swallowing thick molasses.  

Parking the beat-up blue car, you adjusted the dingy green bandana that rested on the temples of your forehead, soft and short curls wrapping around the fabric. You tried your best to style it more feminine after your father cut way too short for your liking - but half of you still felt insecure about the hairstyle.  

Your eyes would gaze upon the ebony beauties that would waltz around town with frilly hair pieces and intricate styles, their long, gorgeous dresses flowing in the wind as men would stop and stare - you would stare too. Sometimes you would daydream about being in a moving picture playing the leading lady that had a lover who would do anything for you; give you flowers, love, and affection. The kind of guy who wouldn't be embarrassed about being tender on you. 

Slamming the car door after jumping out the sizzling leather seat of the car, your rough hands dug into the front pocket of your oversized denim overalls. Your eyes scanning the chicken scratch of a list your father wrote on stained paper, passing through the crowd, trying your best not to bump into anyone. 

nails (three 100 pack) 

gun oil 

chiken chicken feed 

red paint 

game meat 

horse fed feed 

fox repellaint repellent  

Walking towards the general store you normally shopped for your items; you noticed something strange; it had completely changed since you last stopped by. The store was bigger - more cleanly. Items within the store wouldn't be organized, as medicine would often be found next to the rat traps, but now just by gazing around the store everything was neatly placed in spots that...Made sense.  

You also noticed a man that you hadn't seen before, he was hunched over stacking cans of peas next to the tidy stack of caned carrots. Before any words could slip out of your lips he turned to face you, as if he could feel your eyes staring at the back of his head.  

He was handsome, strikingly so.  

His jet-black hair was neatly styled, and his lips held a light welcoming smile. He wore a crisp white button up with an onyx-colored vest on top, protecting the white shirt from the grime and dust. Rubbing his hands on his grey pants he lifted from the ground, rolling his shoulders and neck as he stood at his full height.  

"Welcome. What can I help ya' with?" He asked, a low southern drawl boomed from him, the sound of his voice made you jump. You didn't expect him to have such a sultry voice. Your warm skin on your cheeks began to tingle as your eyes quickly darted towards your muddy shoes. 

"U-Um, I'm just shoppin', sir. Thank you!" You rushed out, stumbling over your words as if you just learned how to talk an hour ago. His lips stretched into a kind and toothy smile, and he nodded his head, dark eyes not breaking contact with your frame. 

"Well, if you need somethin', lemme know."  

And with that he turned onto his heel and continued to work, you quickly scanned around the store looking for everything that you needed on the list. You wanted to leave the store as soon as possible, not because of the handsome man's actions - but because you felt as if you looked...Terrible. 

Your undershirt was a stained long sleeve, a once white fabric now faded into a dingy tan color due to dirt, sweat, and age. The shirt hung off your shoulders, it was your older brother's before it was handed down to you, the piece of clothing was basically swallowing your feminine frame. The muddy overalls that you sported was from your other brother, the second oldest, and it was big on you too.  

Wearing these clothes strangers would sometimes mistake you for a boy, which didn't bother you at all, but the thought of this attractive shopkeeper mistaking you for one sent a wave of anxiety through your body. Grabbing the gun oil, the multiple boxes of nails, and fox repellent your hands were already full.  

You looked around for a basket to hold your items, but none were found. You stood in the middle of the store your face twisting in confusion as you looked around one more time just to make sure you didn't overlook the baskets to hold your stuff, and the man noticed this. 

"Sorry, I just open this place up, last owner's baskets were full 'o holes. I had to toss 'em, won't get new ones till next week."  

"O-Oh, it's fine." 

"Here." he said as he strutted towards you, his arms stretching wide. Your eyes landed on his toned forearms, they looked strong and powerful, and you couldn't help but to gaze at the vein that pressed against his pale olive skin. Standing in front of you the stranger tilted his head in confusion, and you finally realized that he was signaling you to place the items into his arms. 

With a strained and awkward chuckle, you blurted out an apology and gave the items to him. 

"Don't worry, I'll place ya' things on the counter so you can shop around some more." He assured as his long legs strutted towards the register that rested on a mahogany table. He noticed you standing stock still as your fingers fidget between each other. Leaning on the wooden table with crossed arms he sent you another gorgeous smile your way.  

"You new to town?" He asked, his voice was alluring and warm, you could hear him talk all day if you could. 

"No, I live on the outskirts of town with my brothers and Pa, w-we got a farm..." You blurted out, the words rushed from your mouth like a running faucet, which made the man chuckle. 

"Hm, and they just let a pretty girl like yourself go shopping alone?" 

Your eyes widen like saucers and your already racing heart sped up even faster, it felt like you were moments away from a heart attack. You opened and closed your mouth in quick successions, as if you were a fish out of water. 

You were. 

You never heard a man refer to you as pretty. They called you strong, reliable, tough, hardworking - but never pretty. Noticing your anxiety rising he spoke again, this time more carefully. 

"My name's Bo Chow, I'm from around these parts but I just open this store few weeks ago," He then paused as if scanning his thoughts to find the right words to say to not scare you off. "You said your family has a farm? Ya'll got chickens and such? I'm lookin' into finding a stable source for eggs, got an ice box comin' in later today and I wanna stock up." 

"Oh, um. Yeah, we got chickens. Lots of 'em, mean bastards." You mumbled, spitting out a mild annoyance you had with the feathery animals, one of them bit you on the thumb this morning. 

Bo blurted out a laugh from your comment, his chuckles crashing into you like a wave, and it made you smile. With fidgeting fingers, you told him your name, which he repeated three times, each time breathier than the last. He told you that your name was beautiful - that it suited a beautiful girl like yourself. 

Bo noticed that you were on the shy side, so he toned down his flirty advances towards you, but he still let it be known that he found you attractive. Slowly you eased out of your shell and continued to shop, placing each item on the counter as words and laughter exchanged between you two. Completing your shopping list you paid for the items, Bo carefully bagged them into thick brown paper bags, his dark brown eyes trailing your face as he soaked in your beautiful features. 

It stunned him that such a pretty girl was so shy, it was if you were completely unaware of your beauty. With small smile you grabbed the paper bags and Bo reached for the horse feed that rested on the counter.  

"Lemme carry this out for you; it's pretty heavy." 

"No, n-no! It's fine I can make two trips." 

"Nonsense, what kind of man am I to let a lady carry all these bags by herself?" He replied as strong arms lifting the feed as if it weighed nothing, a rush of lust bloomed within your chest as thoughts of his arms holding you tight crept within your mind. But those thoughts were quickly replaced with embarrassment, and you avoided eye contact with the man as you both walked out of the store towards the car. 

Placing the bags in the passenger side of the vehicle Bo shot you a smile, which made you gaze at your shoes again, your boots kicking the dry dirt beneath your feet. Crossing his arms against his chest and without thinking he said: "I know some fella is really lucky to have you." 

"I-I ain't with no one, not like that." You whispered, biting your lip as you leaned against the hot car door, your eyes meeting his for only a split second before looking away. You had a boyfriend in the past, but the only thing you did with the man was kiss and hold hands, you weren't really attracted to him, and he was only with you for 'convenience' - according to him. So, it didn't hurt you none when he dumped you for another girl. 

But you did enjoy landing a right hook square against his jaw after that nasty breakup though.  

Just because he deserved it. 

"W-What about you? I mean, I'm not sayin' a fella is lucky to have you, unless there is--ain't nothin' wrong with that if there is--I mean--" 

"I'm divorced; my ex-wife works at the general store on the white side of town." Bo chuckled, cutting you off from your rambling. You whispered out a meek apology and silence soon followed. The muffle sounds of people's chattering, cars honking, and wheels racing on the dirt road eased your thumping heart a bit. With a sigh Bo tilted his head, his eyes traveling up and down your body as he tongued the inside of his cheek.  

"...I know some fellas who own a juke joint, just outta the way of town. They play some real good music there - and the catfish they serve is fresh, pipin' hot never cooked in stale grease, unlike the fish fry across the street." He said as he pointed his head towards the run-down restaurant that was packed to the brim with people. You giggled at his comment - he was right - despite the popularity of that place, their food was disgusting. With a pause his face twisted in deep thought, finding the next words that he truly wanted to say.  

"We should go there sometime - the juke joint," Bo casually said, his hands now tucked in the pockets of his pants. "Up to you, of course." He quickly added trying his best not to lay it on thick. Your body stiffed and you scrunched up your face in concern and without thinking you blurted out: "You ain't crazy, right?"  

Bo was a handsome man, the kind that you would daydream about as you hammered and worked your days away. It made no sense to you that such a gorgeous man like him would ask you out, he seemed like the type to be paired up with a woman who wore frilly dresses and expensive perfume.  

Not a woman in old, dirty hand-me-down male clothes.  

He shrugged his shoulders as an airy laugh escaped his lungs, you noticed that he laughed a lot. 

The sound of it was music to your ears.  

"Just think about it, okay?" He asked softy, which earned a nod from you. With one last smile he began to walk towards the store backwards, his chestnut-colored eyes not breaking contact with yours.  

"And make sure your brothers help you with movin' allat stuff."  

The drive back home was felt quicker than it actually was, your mind raced with thoughts of Bo. His soft smile, his strong muscular arms, his beautiful deep brown eyes, his thick southern twang with each word he spoke - even though you just met the man you were already falling for him, and you considered his invitation to the juke joint.  

Once pulling into the long dusty driveway of your home a quick realization set within you. 

How would you take him up on that offer? 

Driving back and forth from town wasn't manageable; your father's car drank up gas like it was nothing - and gasoline was expensive. You sighed at the missed opportunity to ask how communication would work between you two. With a lull of your head, your eyes landed on the grocery list that rested on top of the items you bought. Reaching for the stained paper your heart fluttered as you read the numbers out loud, his name scribbled on the bottom of it. 

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒── 

A few blistering weeks had passed and your relationship with Bo blossomed as you both spent hours talking on the phone, and you were starting to enjoy the tedious shopping trips your father would send you on - that meant you were able to see the shopkeeper in person. But when driving into town wasn't needed you settled on calling the man after finishing your chores.  

You learned that the Bo's family was from China, a long way from Mississippi. You would ask about the country and if it was any different from here, his deep voice would sigh and reminiscence about his homeland. His family moved here when he was only a small boy and stated that he lost his accent in exchanged for the Mississippi drawl from living here so long - but he still spoke perfect Mandarin.  

You noticed that his flirty persona would slip as he displayed a sillier side to him. Cursing and complaining about customers leaving messes around his store or local vendors who tried to rip him off, his soothing voice would slip into speaking his native tongue, the sound of those foreign words would caress your ears and make your heart flutter. You would ask him to teach you some words and phrases, which he gladly did.  

Most of them were curse words though.  

You would butcher the unfamiliar words with your southern accent, but he was patient with you as he chuckled out the proper pronunciation of those dirty words, praising you when you finally articulating them semi-perfectly.  

He would ask you about your day as well and you told him everything, down to the exact minute you woke up. He would let out a sharp whistle hearing all of the manual labor that you were responsible for - flirting with you about how you needed a break often saying things like: "Sounds like a hard day, you probably have knots in your shoulders - I could fix that, y'know." 

Which you would reply: "You givin' out massages now?" 

And in turn he would tut out a quick comeback along the lines of: "Only to those who deserves them. I've got magic hands...And a soft spot for women who pretend not to need them." 

You would choke and stumble over your words, quickly changing the subject towards something else. Tonight, you were on the phone with Bo, listing intensely at the story he told - your sore hands shooed your nosy brother away as he gave you a lopsided smile. You told your brothers about Bo, and they teased you relentlessly about him. 

"So, when am I gonna see you again?" Bo asked, making you bite your lip and shrug as if he could see you.  

"I don't know...Maybe soon?" You whispered you didn't want it to come out as a question, but it did, and you mentally kicked yourself for it. You remembered his offer to take you to this 'mysterious' juke joint, it sounded like fun. You love to dance even though you were self-conscious about doing it in front of people, often swaying your hips as you hummed a melody you heard on the radio while cooking or doing chores by your lonesome.  

"How...How 'bout we go that juke joint you were talkin' about? That sounds like fun." 

"Ah! Lil' miss busy body finally wanna come dance with me?" 

"Oh, haha," You sarcastically laughed, picking at the skin of your thumb. "How 'bout next weekend? Does Saturday work for you?" 

"Of course, I'm free Saturday..." He then paused and you could practically see the wide smile that clung onto his face.  

"It's a date, then?" 

"Y-Yeah, it's a date."  

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──  

Your fingers fidget and twist around each other, the crunching sound of rock and dirt beneath your feet grounded you somewhat, but your palms were already beginning to sweat. Passing through parked cars and couples grinding themselves onto each other, you finally made it to this aforementioned juke joint, the booming sound of music and shouting made a lump rise in your throat.  

Stepping towards the large open double doors sat a stocky man. He nodded and waved as people enter and exited the makeshift club - his head snapping forward as his eyes landed onto you. With a wide and friendly smile, he tilted his straw hat with thick fingers - lowering his head in reverence as he spoke. 

"Hello, missy. Ain't seen you around here before," His head rise again, making heavy eye contact with you. You figured that this large man was a bouncer, here to try and keep troublemakers out of the juke. "Word gets around, huh? Each weekend more and more people come - since it's your first time here I recommend trying the Irish whiskey. It got some kick to it, haha. All thanks to those twins, of course."  

"Y-Yes, will do. Thank you." You mumbled, your shy eyes looking down at your feet. The muddy boots that you wore everyday were replaced with emerald green heels, the shoes hurt your feet, but the sales lady reassured you that they'll break in quickly.  

Shuffling around the man you stumbled into the crowded club, your eyes scanning for Bo, but you couldn't find him anywhere. A lost and confused look plastered onto your face - you were starting to feel overwhelmed as second thoughts rushed through your mind. Deciding that you should just leave you quickly turned on your heel, but you bumped into a soft body, strong yet comforting arms steadied you. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" You repeated with a strained voice, shouting out apologies over the loud Blues that reverberated on the wooden walls. 

"It's okay, you alright?" A womanly voice calmly spoke. Your eyes were met with deep mahogany brown irises, her features were beautiful, welcoming. Yet an air of sternness and confidence oozed casually from her as she adjusted her dark blue dress. Her natural hair was done up neatly, framing her face in a way that only enhanced her beautiful features. You couldn't help but to gawk at this woman. Noticing this her smile only soften as she awaited your answer to her question. 

"Oh, um. Yea', I'm okay. Thank you," you choked out, your awkward eyes darting around the room as you peered into the dancing crowd. "Have you seen Bo around?" You added with a bite of your cherry red stained lips - for the first time you were wearing makeup. 

"So, you're her? He's gamblin' with that drunk 'ol fool in the back." She stated, giving you a friendly grin. She turned her head and stopped a man dead in his tracks as he gave her a look that was tinged in nothing but respect.  

"Yes, Annie?" The man asked. 

"Take her to Bo and them, would you?" The woman, now known as Annie, casually said which earned a nod from the man. You gave your thanks to Annie as she winked and disappeared into the crowd. You followed the man, pushing pass people dancing and drinking with apologies falling from your lips, bumping into them accidently. But most of them were either too drunk to care or too busy dancing to notice.  

"Damn, Bo. I thought you said you was good?" A commanding voice boomed, which followed by a chorus of laughter from multiple men. The music wasn't as loud within this hidden room, the muffled hymns were drowned out by lighters flicking, glass bottles clanking, and cocky chuckles coming from each man that huddled together around the small table.  

"I am, but I'm already known' that Slim is cheatin." Bo sighed in annoyance, a cigarette hanged limp between his plump lips as he tossed a card down on the table, stress pulling at his chiseled features and smoke plumed from his mouth with each word he spoke.  

"I ain't cheatin'." A man, who was much older, confidently stated as he took a long swig from his metal flask - licking his lips to taste the alcohol that slipped pass his golden capped teeth.  

"You is." Bo shot back as he took a drag from the cigarette, pulling it from his lips with an index and middle finger, and leisurely blew the smoke into the already thick hazy air.  

"No, I--" 

A sharp wolf whistle cut off the older man's defense, which cause the men to snap their heads towards your direction. The whistle came from the man standing, his hands reaching for the red brimmed hat that rested on his head and placed it over his chest, shielding his well-tailored suit.  

"Ain't you a pretty lil' thang?" He spoke as his dark brown irises slowly ran up and down your body, he was absolutely undressing you with his eyes. You wore a thin silky emerald color dress that loosely hung onto your body - but the soft fabric outlined and accentuated your curves. Your short hair was styled in finger waves, mimicking how women would wear their hair in the many magazines you had hidden away in your bedroom.  

With long mascara covered eyelashes you blinked awkwardly, turning your head to look behind you, confused if the man was talking to you. Bo looked at you with awe, he couldn't recognize you at first but looking deeper at your dolled up face he could see those same beautiful features he'd grown fond of.  

You looked amazing, like a movie star that jumped straight out of the silver screen. 

"Y-You talkin' to me?" You asked the man, pointing at yourself with your head tilting to the side, the dangling silver earing you wore had small green gems, the light catching the dark color - making the jewelry sparkle. The jewelry grazed the warm skin of your bare shoulder as you lulled your head back into its natural position.  

"My, my. And she's humble too," he laughed as he reached his hand out for yours. With sweaty and shaky palms, you placed your hand within the stranger's grasp, it seemed like he didn't care about your drenched soaked palm as he placed a kiss on your trembling hand, the feeling of his moustache lightly tickled your skin. "My name is Stack, baby." He said as he shot you a wide smile, showing off his golden capped teeth that shined under the ember light of the club. But before you could open your mouth Bo quickly cut into the conversation, swatting away the advances Stack was planning on making towards you.  

"Watch yourself - she ain't like that, Stack." Bo hissed tossing his cards on the table, quitting from the game which made Slim smile ear to ear from the easy victory.  

"Why you care, ain't you married?" Stack jested back, his voice dripping with charisma, sending a wink your way after finishing his sentence.  

"Divorced." Bo said curtly. 

Stack raised his hands up in a playful display of defeat, his face twisting in mischief as a chuckle fell from his plump lips.  

"My bad, Bo. I ain't know you like the sistas." Stack chuckled as he pulled the empty chair from the table, claiming his seat as nimble hands collected the scattered cards - preparing to shuffle them for the next game.  

"I ain't know you like 'em either." Bo replied, sitting up from his chair as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, stopping right at the elbows - his cigarette still hanging limply from his mouth.  

This statement earned a raspy roar of laughter from Slim as he clapped his hands together, the sound of his foot stomping made you jump a bit. Stack's once confident persona melted as he shot glares at Slim and Bo, which only made Slim laugh even harder.  

You were oblivious to their 'inside joke'.  

"Whew, you have fun you crazy kids," Slim sighed out, taking another swig from his flask. "And you: get outta ya feelings, boy. Shuffle them cards." The older man places a hard pat on Stack's shoulder, which only made him grunt in annoyance. 

"I think you had too much to drink, old man." Stack seethed as he quickly mixed up the cards in his hands.  

Putting the cigarette out in the ashtray Bo's striking features eased with happiness as he laid his eyes on you. Holding his arm out for you to grab onto, both of you exited the small gambling room - now out on the bustling dance floor. His eyes were trained onto your face as he pulled you closer towards him, the bloom of attraction and arousal tugged within Bo as he bit his lip. 

You were looking damn good tonight. 

"I see why you didn't want me to pick you up - you're somethin' else, you know that?" He smiled, the dimples of his cheeks deepening as you shrugged your shoulders at his words, your eyes gazing at him. He looked handsome as always, but tonight he looked dashing. Noticing his eyes that flicked towards your body, you took a step back to show him your full outfit. 

"You like my dress? I bought it earlier today - I wanted to wear somethin' new." You gushed out and with a twirl you showed him the back of your dress that exposed the bare skin of your back, but you didn't notice Bo's eyes landing straight on your ass that poked against the thin fabric. Sticking his thumb in his belt loop, he adjusted his pants - he really wanted to see what's under that dress - but alas, he wouldn't outwardly say that to you as his own worrying self-conscious crept in.  

Bo wasn't bashful nor shy when it came to intimacy and sex, he was open about his wants and desires. But you were the polar opposite, so he tried his best to keep those lustful thoughts about you to himself, toning the flirty banter down to a minimum. But that was becoming a challenge tonight with how sexy you looked, and it didn't help much that Stack's actions made him a tad bit jealous. 

Bo knew you desired him just as much, but he knows it'll take a while for that shell of yours to crack.  

Low strumming of guitar strings pulled your attention away from Bo, your eyes gazing at the makeshift stage ahead of you, watching a man that was around your age plucked the metal strings of the instrument. With a low hum you noticed the once lively dancefloor coupled up in pairs, while the singles made their way to the bar to fill up on drinks. With a thumb on his bottom lip Bo, smiled at your sudden ramped attention towards the slow music. 

"That's Preacher Boy, he's mighty fine at playin' that guitar," Bo walked forward towards the dance floor with your hand in his. Both your fingers interlocking with each other's. "Care to fancy me a dance?"  

You couldn't do anything but to excitedly nod, the butterflies in your stomach were becoming unbearable. With strong arms Bo held you flush against him, you could feel his lean body through his clothes - both of you swaying to the rhythm of the song. Tough hands rested on the small of your back, his calloused fingers resting dangerously close above your ass. 

You wouldn't mind it if he rested his hand there.  

With threaded fingers he guided your steps, you tripped over yourself for a bit - but you quickly found the rhythm again. Your head rest on his shoulder while he placed his on top of your head, the tender lyrics about love and not wanting to let go echoed through your mind, the lovesick song made your heart swell.  

Bo then pulls away from your body, but only for a bit - he twirled you around, making you giggle at the action and with skillful movements, he pressed your backside onto himself. His hands guided your hips against his and you could feel his growing bulge pressing against your backside. You shiver in delight at the feeling of him pressing against you, his lips also pressing against your ear as he sang along the lyrics - switching some of the words with Mandarin. He was singing the song directly to you. 

Your loins were on fire, and you tried the ease the ache between your legs by grinding yourself onto his stiffening member. Bo took quick noticed of this, his fingers pressing down on your hips as he steadies himself.  

Helping you grind yourself on him. 

Turning around to face him again you wrapped your arms over his shoulders, still pressing yourself firmly on his body. Your lips ghosting over his - he leaned forward in an attempt to close the sliver of space between your lips, but you pulled away with a slight grin that danced across your cherry red lips.  

"Do you think I'm pretty even when I don't look like...This all the time?" You asked him. Though you enjoyed dressing up and doing your make up - a part of you also found comfort in wearing clothes that weren't 'conventionally' for women. You were shy and sometimes you had some bouts of insecurity - but that was every woman. 

You hoped that Bo could understand that.  

"The moment I laid my eyes on you - when you came into my store - I knew then that I wanted you," he paused as his brown eyes stared into yours intensely, every word he spoke made you lose your breath. "You're more than pretty; you're beautiful - gorgeous. Doesn't matter what you got on."  

With quivering lips, you kissed him, Bo's lips were soft, and his kiss was steady as he guided your unskilled mouth against his - deepening the kiss even more. His warm hands trailed over the exposed skin of your back, the feeling of rough fingers made you spiral, and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Bo could feel your wetness too - pressing his thigh in between your legs and against your aching core.  

You moaned into his mouth, and you held onto his shoulders for dear life, you needed to feel this man inside you - you were growing desperate to relieve yourself from the intense arousal that bubbled in your core. 

"C'mon, lemme take care of you, baby." Bo whispered.  

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒── 

Slipping away from the crowd, you and Bo found an empty room upstairs of the juke, away from prying eyes. The room was dusty, and the air was stale and thick - as if you both were the first people to enter in years. The slow love song that Preacher Boy sang was now replaced with loud, intense melodies and the once tender lyrics now oozed with raunchy double entendres.  

Pressing your back against the wall, Bo's nimble hands ran over your body, stroking and squeezing all of your curves as if his life depended on it - his hands stopping at your breast, cupping them gently through the fabric of your dress. His faced rested within the crook of your neck as his lips sucked at the exposed skin, slightly nipping you with his teeth. Your hands race through his black hair, the strands threading through your fingers as your nails softly scratched at his scalp. 

"You see what you do to me, girl?" He asked as he reached for your hand, placing it over his clothed bulge that strained against his pants. You bit your lip as your fingers rubbed against his hard member, his hips bucking into your hand as you pressed down on his dick.  

"I-I gotta tell you somethin'." 

"What is it, baby?" He asked in between fevered kisses on your neck. 

"I ain't never did this before." You sighed out breathlessly. Kissing and grinding wasn't intimidating to you - you've done that before. 

But sex, actual sex, was a whole different ballpark. You weren't 'saving' yourself for marriage or anything like that; you never had the opportunity to be with anyone sexually. Until now, of course. Bo stopped in his tracks and pulled away from your neck, his eyes that were filled with lust a second ago soften while his hands rested at your sides.  

"...You a virgin?" He asked, which made you whisper out a yes. His eyebrows knitted together as he stared down at you, still pressing himself against your heaving chest. "Sure you want this?" 

"Yea', I'm sure...I like you, Bo. A lot, I wanna do it," you paused - your eyes looking away from him and in attempt to try to break the rising tension from the realization of you never having sex before, you spoke again. "Just be patient with me." 

"I'll be gentle I promise, baby. It's just like dancin', follow my lead - I'll make sure you feel real good." Bo whispered as his hand caress your cheek, his thumb rubbing circles. Leaning in he kissed you again, but this kiss was different than the last - it was slow and gentle.  

You kissed him back and his tongue swipe at your bottom lip, asking for permission to deepen the kiss, and you let him. Both of your tongues danced in unison, the taste of cigarette smoke with the hint of peppermint lingered on your mouth with each kiss. His hands reached for the hem of your dress, pulling up the fabric exposing your bare thighs and thin cotton underwear.  

His hand rubbed your leg, stopping at the waistband of your panties, his finger tracing over the band and stopping at the wet spot of the fabric. Slowly his fingers pressed against your clothed clit, rubbing small yet firm circles on the sensitive bud, earning a shallow moan that escaped your chest.  

"Does it feel good, baby?" Bo asked as he continued rubbing your pussy through your panties. You groan out a breathy yes, encouraging him to keep going.  

And he did.  

Your hips bucked against his hand, while his free hand pinched at your right nipple with attentive fingers. The sharp feeling of his pinching sent a wave of pleasure towards your loins and your hands gripped onto his toned biceps. With skillful and experienced hands, he stuck his thumb within the waistband of your soaking underwear, slipping the fabric off your hips towards your already shaking knees, his fingers now rubbing against your exposed pussy.  

"Oh, Bo. T-That feels good." You whimpered as he continued his movements - now picking up speed, making you moan even louder.  

You were glad that the music was blaringly loud. 

"Fuck...You're already so wet." Bo muttered as his fingers swiped across your aching entrance. He was practically straining against his pants, but since this was your first time, he didn't want to rush. He remembered his first time having sex - it wasn't terrible, but it wasn't great either - even so he still looked back on that memory fondly. The feeling of reaching that level of ecstasy sticks to a person and he was honored to be able to help you achieve it. It was daunting knowing that he's your first, but it also lit a fire within him. 

He wanted nothing more but to pleasure you, to make sure that your first time is special. Trailing gentle kisses down your body Bo got on his knees, tugging the panties off of your legs as he did so. Your hands gripped onto the hem of your dress in a tight fist and your eyes followed his every movement. 

"I wanna taste you, baby. Can I taste you?" He asked desperately, his eyes looking up at you as if you were an angel in disguise - as if you were a work of art.  

You nodded your head, but he didn't move. 

"Use your words, sugar."  

"Y-Yes, you can taste me." choked out awkwardly, you never talked dirty to anyone before but the act of doing it only made you hornier. Bo smiled wide at your answer, placing a feather light kiss on your thigh and on your sensitive bud. The feeling of his lips on your pussy made you shiver in excitement and slowly he began to lick you.  

The tip of his tongue skillfully circled your clit, only stopping to drag it across your soaking pussy. He moaned against your core - savoring sweet taste of your juices that filled his mouth. You bucked your hips against his face, riding on his experienced tongue as he continued repeating his movements. 

Chanting out his name with a groan your hands ran through his hair, it took everything within you not to pull at his dark tresses - but the sensation of his tongue lapping up your pussy made your head spin. Working over your core Bo slowly slipped his middle finger inside of you, stopping at the second joint in case you couldn't take the feeling. To your surprise the feeling of his finger inside you didn't hurt; in fact, it felt amazing - it felt heavenly.  

Careful and slow he moved his hand, pressing the finger in and out of your pussy as his lips sucked at your swollen and sensitive clit. Lulling your head to the side you rocked your hips to match the pace of his hand, biting your lip as a wave of pleasure washed over you. Bo then added another finger which made you squeeze your thighs against the sides of his head, holding his head in place with a vice grip.  

His middle and ring finger worked your over your core, the digits now fully inside of you. Picking up the pace with his fingers your pussy, guttural moans turned into high pitched groans as your left hand scratched at the wall behind you. An unfamiliar yet intense feeling tingled at your core, and something within you desperately needed the feeling to be alleviated. It was as if Bo read your mind and his tongue swirled over your clit and within an instant a wave of euphoria crashed into you as a loud cry fell from your lips, your body shaking intensely like a leaf in the wind.  

You came. 

Bo's mouth pulled away from your dripping pussy, he didn't want to overwhelm you as his now slick fingers lightly stroked your tender button, easing you through your orgasm.  

"Just like that, baby. You got it...Good job, great job." He praised. Looking down at him Bo's chin and the collar of his shirt was soaked with your juices, and it slightly embarrassed you with just how wet you truly were. But that feeling of embarrassment quickly dissipated when he stood up again, his lips crashing into yours - kissing you with fever.  

You could taste yourself on his tongue, with shaky hands you locked your fingers together at the back of his head, deepening the kiss. Something about tasting you on his swollen lips made your pussy tingle with a need to be filled again. 

"Bo...I-I need you."  

"I need you too." He whispered back between kisses. Your hand reached for the buckle of his belt, fumbling over your own fingers as you tried to free him from his pants. Bo held your hands in his, guiding them in unbuckling the belt.  

Finally, being able to free himself from his belt, he led your hand in his pants. You could feel just how hard he was. His member was thick and heavy and feeling the warmth of it on the palm of your hand made your mouth water in the anticipation of him fucking you. Pulling his pants off his waist, Bo's dick sprung free.  

With strong hands he lifted you up from under your arms, making you gasp. Following his lead, you wrapped your legs around his hips as he pressed his lean body against yours, pressing you on the wall to steady yourself. Your sweaty forehead rested on his as you both watched him stroke himself, pumping his dick with his hand, precum making a natural lubricant.  

With cloudy eyes you watched Bo lining himself towards your aching core he slowly entered you, his head rested on your hot and sweat slicked shoulder and the feeling of his cock entering your tight pussy almost made the man topple over. He was stretching you out and the raw sting of pain mixed with pleasure crashed into you like a tidal wave, your nails clung onto Bo's shirt, scratching at his skin through the cotton fabric.  

"Shh, it's okay, I got you." Bo reassured as he paused the movement of his hips - resting his cock inside of you - allowing both of your bodies to adjust to each other. You were so tight, so warm, so wet. It felt like he'd just stumbled into heaven, and it took everything in him not to buck his hips until you were ready. With a nod of your head, you signaled him to continue, your tense muscles melted as he placed a long kiss on your jaw as he slowly began rocking his hips back and forth, fucking into you as softly as he could.  

High pitched grunts fell from your lips with each thrust he made, and his thumb rubbed small and supportive circles over the skin of your thighs that wrapped around his hips, grounding you and easing the tense muscles within your legs. Bo began chanting your name, telling you how good you felt, and asking you if he felt good inside you too.  

The pain of his cock inside of your once unexplored sex subsided and was now replaced with nothing but pleasure. You moaned against his plump lips as he groaned out curses in Mandarin at the sensation of your pussy squeezing around his member; his hips thrusting into you rapid but steady pace. 

"Bo, I think I'm almost..." 

"I'm almost there too." Bo mumbled as he rested his forehead onto yours and with a few more thrusts you felt the familiar feeling of a knot formed within your abdomen and with shaking legs your mouth hanged open slack as a silent scream pushed through your convulsing body - the high of reaching your orgasm made you hold Bo in a vice grip.  

He cursed in pleasure as his own orgasm crept up on him, backing away from your tight grip with strong arms he pulled himself out of you, pumping his cock within his hand until he reached his climax - coming in his hand as he rested his head on your shoulders, your eyes watching him stroke himself. The sounds of heavy breathing filled the air as your head spin from experiencing your second orgasm. 

Your sweaty body leaned against the wall and with a deep sigh Bo steadied his breathing, rolling his shoulders as your eyes met with his. You noticed a bit of blood that was in his hand and the odd sensation of slick clung on your inner thighs, putting two and two together you looked away from him, embarrassment blooming within your already racing heart. But before you could blurt out an apology, Bo kissed your lips - pulling you out of your self conscious state.  

"That's normal for your first time. It's okay, baby." He reassured. Cleaning you and himself up with a small cotton handkerchief, you jumped at the soft fabric rubbing against your sensitive sex, which earned a sympathetic chuckle from Bo. 

"Hopefully next time we do it we'll have a bed. My back hurts..." You whispered as your hand pressed on the small of your back, getting fucked against a hard wall feels good in the moment, but you know you'll be stiff as a board the following morning.  

"Next time?" Bo asked as a mischievous grin tugged at his lips.  

"I-I mean if you want--" 

"I'll make sure we'll have a bed, and besides I promised you a massage, remember?" He smiled and you smiled back at him. After getting cleaned up, you and Bo rejoined the bustling crowd of the juke joint, hand in hand. 

You were counting down the minutes until your next 'encounter' with him - and so was he. 

[gweelczz]

“Talking you through it”

Sinners men x their women

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: none

Summary: The men from sinners talk their women through it

Bo Chow: The room was dim, the only light spillin’ in from the window—gold and warm, just like the Delta sun had kissed its last goodbye for the day. The air was still, thick with heat and something unspoken. Rosetta lay back against the worn quilt, chest rising and falling slow, her golden eyes never leavin’ Bo.

He was above her, shirt long gone, his calloused hands cradlin’ her hips like they were something holy.

“You alright, baby?” he asked, voice low, Southern drawl slidin’ over her like silk.

Rosetta nodded, breath already catchin’. “Mhm.”

Bo leaned down, pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then that soft skin below her jaw. “I got you. Just feel, alright? Don’t think. Let me take care of you.”

She let out a breathy hum, one hand slidin’ up to bury itself in his thick black hair.

He moved slow, patient—like he had all the time in the world and nothin’ else to worship but her. His lips brushed down her neck, over the curve of her chest, his voice steady in her ear.

“Look at you, Rose… so beautiful like this. Soft. Open. All mine.”

She whimpered, her hips liftin’ ever so slightly, beggin’ without words.

“I know, baby. I know what you need,” he murmured, hand slidin’ between her thighs, the other still holdin’ her hip firm, keepin’ her grounded.

Her breath hitched as his fingers moved slow, teasing, coaxin’ her open, coaxin’ her deeper into herself.

“Shh… that’s it,” he whispered. “You don’t gotta do nothin’. Just let go. Let me hear you.”

Rosetta’s head tipped back, her hand tightenin’ in his hair, body tremblin’ under his touch.

Bo kissed her collarbone, murmurin’ against her skin, “You feel how perfect you are? How good you are for me?”

“Bo… oh, God,” she gasped, her voice crackin’ as her thighs began to tremble.

“Nah, baby,” he said gently, smilin’ against her throat. “Ain’t no God right now but you.”

He stayed with her, movin’ in rhythm with her breath, her cries, the way her body writhed beneath his. Every sound she made, every broken whisper, only spurred him on—soothing her when it got too much, pushin’ her when she tried to hold back.

“That’s it, baby… you’re right there. Don’t fight it.”

Rosetta’s back arched, her mouth fallin’ open, and Bo caught her with his lips, kissin’ her deep as the wave crashed through her. Her whole body shook, her hands clingin’ to him like he was the only thing tetherin’ her to the earth.

He didn’t stop holdin’ her. Didn’t stop whisperin’ to her.

“You’re safe. I got you. I’m right here, Rose… always.”

She collapsed into his arms, heart poundin’, body limp, tears slidin’ from the corners of her eyes. He kissed them away, murmurin’ love in every language he knew.

“I love you,” she whispered, voice barely a breath.

Bo kissed her again, deep and slow. “I know, baby. I love you more.”

Sammie ‘Preacher boy’ Moore: The night air curled lazy through the cracked window, warm and thick like molasses. The juke joint had long gone quiet, the world outside slowin’ to a hush. But in that little bedroom Sugar’s granddaddy left her, all was heat and breath and closeness.

Sammie hovered over her, his body flush with hers, their skin slick with sweat, their hearts beatin’ like drums caught in rhythm. He had her wrapped up in his arms like she was the most precious thing he ever held, his lips brushing her temple, his breath steady in her ear.

“Breathe, Sugar,” he murmured low, voice all velvet and gravel. “Don’t fight it now… just let it come. I got you.”

She whimpered beneath him, her fingers curlin’ in the sheets, back archin’ just so, and Sammie’s hand found hers — laced their fingers together like a prayer.

“There you go,” he whispered, kissin’ her cheek, her jaw, her throat. “That’s it, baby. You feel that? That’s me… That’s love, Sugar. That’s every bit of me I ever had to give.”

Her breath hitched, tremblin’ against his chest, and Sammie smiled, soft and reverent, like he was watchin’ a miracle unfold. His voice stayed with her, coaxin’, guidin’, groundin’ her.

“You doin’ so good, girl,” he hummed, voice thick and slow, like a hymn. “Ain’t nobody ever made me feel like you do. Ain’t never wanted to give myself to nobody but you.”

She gasped, her hands grippin’ his back, and Sammie held her through it, strong and gentle.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he breathed, kissin’ her again, firmer this time. “Come on now, ride it out, I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You safe with me, always.”

By the time her body settled, all soft and spent and glowin’, Sammie was still holdin’ her like he never planned to let go.

And he didn’t.

He pressed his forehead to hers, thumb sweepin’ tender over her cheek, and whispered, “That’s the kind of love they write gospel songs about, Sugar. The kind I’ll spend my whole life praisin’.”

Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore: The room was bathed in the soft gold of the bedside lamp, shadows dancing across the walls as the baby slept peacefully in the bassinet nearby. Smoke’s touch was slow, reverent—like every inch of Honey’s skin was something holy.

“You sure you alright, mama?” he asked low against her neck, his breath warm, hands steady as they slid up her thighs.

Honey nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “I missed you…”

That was all he needed. He moved with care, not in any rush. It wasn’t just about the heat—it was about her. About making her feel like the goddess she was. Like the woman who gave him the most beautiful thing he’d ever known.

“You just breathe for me,” Smoke murmured, kissing the soft swell of her belly, then moving higher. “Ain’t gotta do nothin’ but feel.”

His fingers found her slowly, easing in, coaxing her open like a prayer. Her body responded with a shiver, hips lifting instinctively.

“That’s it,” he whispered, watching her, voice thick with love and want. “Just like that, baby. You ain’t gotta hold nothin’ back.”

Honey whimpered, her hand grasping the sheet, eyes fluttering closed. Smoke pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I got you. Let go. You know I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

She trembled under his touch, her breath catching as he kept whispering to her, voice dark and sweet like molasses. “You feel that, Betty? That’s all you, baby. That’s your body rememberin’ how good it feel to be worshiped.”

Her breath hitched, thighs tensing. He slowed just enough to keep her on the edge, his lips brushing her ear.

“Let it happen, mama. You safe. I got you—always.”

When it finally washed over her, she melted into his chest with a soft cry, heart racing, body trembling. Smoke held her tight, brushing damp curls from her face, kissing her forehead.

“There she go,” he whispered, pride and love thick in his voice. “My beautiful girl.”

And in the quiet that followed, their baby still asleep beside them, Smoke just held her—like he always would.

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore: Stack’s voice was low, rough with desire, and full of assurance. “Breathe, baby,” he murmured, his hands steady as they traced the curve of her body. “I got you. Let go.”

Honey’s breath quickened, the heat between them intensifying, every touch pulling her closer to the edge. She clenched around him, the pressure building, and she gasped.

“That’s it,” Stack encouraged, his grip tightening, guiding her movements. “Feel it, let it build.” His words were like a tether, pulling her deeper into the moment. “You’re mine now, Honey. Let me hear you.”

Her body trembled, the wave crashing over her in a flood of sensation. She cried out his name, her hands gripping him as she let herself go completely.

Stack leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered. “That’s my sweet girl.”

[cronaskullz]

YALL KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS 😈

NEED HIM OML!!!!!!

ALLA THEM TOO>>>>>

Sinners x reader fanfic writers wya?!!!???

[ddlydevotion]

Grace and Bo Chow both being infatuated with you 💌 ₊˚⊹⋆

a/n: I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing this! This post contains nsfw content/slightly obsessive behavior so proceed with caution. This is also quite long so I apologize for that. Look out for a part two!

currently listening to: Cupid by Sam Cooke

You met Bo first. You applied for a job at the shop and proved yourself to be incredibly dependable. He allowed you to count the money in the register, keep logs of what was going in & out of the store, and take care of client records and accounts. The two of you had a purely professional relationship, but if a professional relationship consisted of longing glances, lingering touches, and endearing nicknames.

You knew he was married, the golden band around his ring finger didn't let you forget the fact that he was. You felt horrible for even entertaining the nicknames and the close contact he kept with you, but you considered yourself to be on the safe side of things. As long as the two of you kept the touchiness to a minimum and didn't take your affection for one another to the bedroom, everything was fine.

His wife, Grace, tended to their shared store on the white side of town. She'd occasionally pop into the store to check in on Bo & their daughter, making sure she completed her tasks for the day. Afterwards, she'd never fail to make her way up to you and ask about your day.

"How are ye doin? Bo been treatin' you well?"

"You're doin' a good job around 'ere, girl. We gotta keep you here, don't want the other stores to try an' take ye from us."

Bo would affirm her praise by nodding his head and adding in his own little two cents. Grace wouldn't shy away from rubbing your arm or placing a delicate finger underneath your chin while saying "you're a real pretty girl, y'know that?". Her physical touch could be disguised as something playful and sweet, something between two women that were fond of one another. But, as the two of them made eye contact over your head they knew that what they had in store for you was anything but playful.

The playful banter between the three of you continued for weeks after that. You didn't expect anything more to blossom from your friendship with the married couple, but the clueless cloud you had over your head was quickly blown away one night. It was usual for them to invite you over to have dinner at their shared home. It was a common occurrence that even Lisa looked forward to as you were never anything but kind to her.

If you try to tell them that you wouldn't be able to make it due to a packed schedule, they'd do everything in their power to convince you to show anyway.

"Oh, we promise we won't keep you long. C'mon ya could just come on over for some dinner and make your way home after that. promise."

"awe are ya sure? Lisa was really lookin' forward to seeing ya again."

Sure, it was common for them to invite you over for dinner. However, it wasn't all too common for them to invite you into their bedroom. They'd usually keep you past midnight to have conversation going in the kitchen, but Bo offered to move the late night ritual into their bedroom. The conversation went on as normal and the wine in your glass disappeared by the minute. You sat with your legs crossed on their wooden-framed bed, the couple sat right in front of you. Bo's hand made a home for itself on the skin of your thigh that peaked from underneath your dress, he rarely ever showed such explicit affection like this. You expected Grace to become angry with the two of you, rightfully so, and have the night come to an end. Instead, she moved towards you and swept your hair out of your face with those delicate fingers of hers you've come to admire.

"I don't think ya know just how pretty ya are. I mean, jus' look at that face, baby. You just might be the prettiest damn thing I've ever seen." Bo's hand moved towards the inside of your thigh and a small smile stretched across his lips. "s'true, sweetheart", both of his hands eventually moved towards the inside of your thighs, spreading you open for him, Grace shuffling behind you before positioning your head to lay on her lap.

The night ended with your legs curved around Bo's slender waist as he pumped his cock into you, the coarse hair at the base of his cock stimulating your pulsing clit once he finally bottomed out. Grace kept herself busy, too. She rubbed your throbbing clit with her middle & ring finger, occasionally cradling your flushed cheeks and encouraging you to "take that cock, baby. s'so big, ain't it? I know, I know", shushing your whines and cooing at your fucked out expression. She couldn’t help but smile when you let out a surprised squeal at the feeling of her fingers tweaking and pinching your sensitive nipples.

Your relationship with the Chow's was never made public to the town, I mean, why would it be? Everyone in your close circle knew that the three of you were quite the close bunch of friends, but they didn't know the rest of it.

I can definitely see the both of them being possessive over you. They could see you talking with a friend of yours outside of the store and immediately interrogate you about it.

"She's just a good friend of mine! What's this all about?"

"Y'know damn well what this is all about. She looked like she was imaginin' what ya looked like without your clothes on."

It'd make them inexplicably upset to see you in a relationship with anyone that isn't them. They'd never allow you to do so without putting up a fight, though. It'd be foolish for you to think they'd let you go so easily. Even if you did get romantically involved with anyone else, you'd never be truly satisfied. Grace and Bo raised your standards to the damn moon and it'd be impossible for anyone to try and fill their shoes. Whenever your partner did anything wrong, you couldn't help but think "they'd never do that to me."

Helping Grace whenever she's working on a sign for a client. She doesn't hold back on sharing just how proud she is of you when you finish up a paint job.

Sharing many passion filled nights with the couple at the Juke Joint. You spend so much time sat at the bar without ordering anything just to talk to Grace. Bo pulls you in to dance with him and no one around bats an eye. What's wrong with two friends sharing a dance together? However, the way his glistening eyes gaze into yours with such intense passion behind them is anything but platonic.

It's incredibly easy for you and Grace to hide the true nature of your relationship. Nobody suspects anything even when her arm is firmly wrapped around your waist, or when her lips graze your cheek in a sweet peck. That's just how good friends celebrate one another.

They always find themselves on your front porch with gifts and they hardly ever show up empty handed. The gifts range from sundresses perfect for the southern heat, pastries they know you'll enjoy, savory treats the both of them worked on.

You're constantly heading over to their home and being convinced to stay the night by the sweet-talking couple. They don't entertain the possibility of you staying in a spare room, they want you to make yourself familiar & comfortable with their bedroom. Their spare room is honestly quite useful in having visitors believe that's where you stay, assisting in avoiding any questions about the true nature of your 'friendship'.

Bo wraps himself around your body like a koala and Grace curls herself into a fetal position in front of you, relishing in the feeling of your warm arms around her.

taglist: @officialthrad @bochowswife @thegr33nc0met @missroro @mjwhis @foreid let me know if you'd like to be added!

[nothanksofficer]

1.0 we are all sinners (the one shot ver)

starring: you, remmick, and bo pairing: bo chow/reader. maybe remmick/reader/bo? mostly bo chow/reader for now

warnings: slight but a bit more nsfw, very very slight smut, open-at-your-own-risk, dark romance, vampirism, corruption, moral and literal seduction, temptation, sharing is caring(?), reverse harem(ish), hive-mind, manipulation

summary: in this world, there is no grace chow. only y/n chow. and boy, does that have consequences.

word count: 2k+

concept ver: 0.1

"Because I know everything he knows now. Even how you like to be licked."

"And I can promise I won't bite too hard."

a/n: so it became a bit bigger than i intended, but honestly i wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if i didnt get this idea out of my head. let me know what y'all think! if this gets enough traction, ill think of making a series

Ever since you first came to town, everyone knew that Bo was more than smitten with you. You, the girl with paint-stained fingers, and a smile that was all rainbows and teeth. He was always the first to seek you out. Always the first to ask for your services. Whether it was for a sign, a label, or even just some basic repainting, he always went to you, and never anyone else. 

It wasn’t until he finally proposed to you, on one knee and all, that he revealed the real reason he had kept calling you back to his store.

“I liked the art, of course,” he said with a charming grin. “It just so happened I liked the pretty girl behind it even more.”

That’s how Y/N Chow came to be. For two years now, you’ve been at Bo’s side, working at the shop, and occasionally painting some signs (for a fee). It was a running joke in town, that even your husband was no exception, meaning even he couldn’t get it for free. 

But whereas the other locals had to pay in cash, Bo paid it forward to you a bit…differently.

“One more time, baby. I still owe you for that shiny new menu, don’t I?” Bo teased. He had his hands between your legs, still slick from your last round. If people knew that the weekly (and in some cases, even daily) signs were just an excuse for your insatiable husband to get his hands on you, you doubted you’d get as many compliments as you did whenever a new one was put up. 

Your life had been peaceful, perfect even, for those first two years. So perfect, in fact, that you and Bo were on the brink of taking the next big step together. The two of you had saved up more than enough for it. And even you had to admit you were just as eager to finally have a little one of your own. One who would be a perfect combination of you both. 

“I wouldn’t mind a girl. Especially if she’s as pretty as her mama,” Bo whispered as he curled up behind you. It was the middle of the night, and even though he had damn near put you to sleep with that crazy stamina of his, you couldn’t seem to close your eyes just yet. Not with him still pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck. 

“Or a boy as charming as his daddy,” you sighed back drowsily. 

Your husband, ever the sweet-talker, didn’t even hesitate. “Why don’t we try for both?” 

So when one of the SmokeStack twins came barging into the store–one you later remembered as Smoke–you weren’t entirely opposed to the new commission for their new venture. The extra money never hurt anyone. And you would be hard-pressed to say no to Bo’s old-time friends. 

Club Juke, they called it. And while you thought the old sawmill to be a strange location for a new club, you didn’t question it…even though you probably should have. The red sign, despite being your own creation, was ominous enough on its own. And yet, you still let Bo lead you inside without even waiting for the paint to dry. The unmatched supply of alcohol should have rang as suspicious. You doubted even the grocer stocks had as much beer and wine as the twins did, and yet, that didn’t stop you from taking the occasional sinful sip. 

The real kicker, however, was the music. Sammie, who even you distinctly remember as the preacher’s little boy, was clearly unmatched at the guitar. And his voice, a hypnotic drawl, that could tempt the most pious to the dancefloor. Not even you and Bo could escape his song. And even though it was only your husband at your side, you could have sworn you heard the symphony of the ancestors joining you both. 

“You’re glowing, baby.” 

“Am I?” You hummed, still lost in the mesmerizing feeling of being part of something greater. Of finally belonging, despite never having really been lost in the first place. 

Bo didn’t say anything more, too entranced as you began spinning around him once more, silk skirt flapping behind you. There was a heady feeling that seemed almost electric. And the more you danced, teasing him with passing touches and glances, the more you could tell it was starting to affect him, too.

That all came to a pause, however, when they arrived.

Three voices in harmony, in what you supposed was a catchy, albeit simple tune. Nothing as intoxicating as the heavy blues of Sammie, but still melodic enough for you to recognize the talent behind it. As you took a peek over your Smoke’s shoulder, curious to see who exactly was singing, you were met with shadowed brown eyes staring unblinkingly into yours. 

“Picked poor robin clean…I picked his hair, I picked his teeth…” 

You tilted your head curiously, more than surprised as the banjo player proceeded to wink at you mid-song. Still, you didn’t think much of it as anything beyond performer’s charisma. And that was almost wiped from your mind entirely when you felt Bo’s hands begin to pull you away from the door. 

You didn’t turn back once, not with your husband now by your side. If you did, you would’ve noticed said banjo player still staring after you both. (But you didn’t.)

You weren’t sure what happened in between that moment and now. Only that something wretched was overtaking the place. One that was marked by Stack’s death at Mary’s hands. No one saw that coming. Much less your husband, who once regaled you with their tragic love story a few years ago. 

You wanted to feel bad for Smoke, you truly did. But your gut feeling told you that you couldn’t afford to. Not when something haunted and evil was beginning to envelope Club Juke like an oncoming storm. 

“We need to leave, Bo.” 

“Baby, he just lost his brother. We can’t just leave him now.”

“I know he’s your friend, but we came to help the club. We didn’t sign up for whatever…this is,” you pleaded. “Please, Bo. This is scaring me. Just take me home first, at least.” 

“Alright. I’ll go get the car for us. You sure you can pack everything by yourself?” At your shaky nod, Bo pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. “You wait right here, baby. I’ll be right back.”

If you had known that would be the last time you would see your husband, you wouldn’t have begged as hard as you did. But none of you knew what you were dealing with. Not until Cornbread returned acting all strange. Or when Smoke shot him in the head, to no effect. It only really really hit you when Stack somehow came back….wrong. 

Vampires were supposed to be myths. And yet, this…this was terrifyingly real. 

"Let me go! I need to go after Bo!" 

"Careful now. You walk out there, Y/N, you might not walk back in." 

"I can't just sit here and do nothing! My husband is outside with those—those things!" 

But Smoke put his foot down, stopping your argument in its tracks. "Bo can handle himself, Y/N. Besides, you know he wouldn't want to put you at risk either. Bo'd want you here. Inside. Where it's safe."  

It was only thanks to Annie that you and the other survivors had an inkling of what to do. Dead bodies, like the one you found behind the bar, didn’t stay dead for long. Bullets to the head would slow them at best. The only ways to stop them, or at least really hurt them, was with garlic or a stake to the heart. And even then, that was just the tip of the iceberg. 

The one resounding agreement, however, was that under no circumstance could any of you afford to get bitten. Not unless you wanted your soul trapped, becoming one of them.

When you bit into the garlic alongside the others, it tasted like guilt and regret. It only got worse when you were tasked with first watch at the door. Everyone else was at the back, creating more stakes, preparing more garlic, and modifying whatever they could into a weapon.

That’s why, when you first heard the sound of pained gurgles and squelching, you were the only one peeping behind that slightly ajar door. Which you almost regretted instantly, upon seeing the poor ‘dead’ body being consumed by Cornbread.

You nearly screamed for the others, realizing the gravity of your joint mistake and what it cost the innocent man now bleeding to death outside. But before you could, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. One you’d recognize anywhere. 

It was Bo’s.

"Hey, baby," he grinned, and for a moment, you could almost believe it actually was your husband. Keyword being, almost. "Come on outside. I got the car started for you. Let's go!" 

Your first instinct was to pull him inside into safety and make sure he really was okay. He looked exactly as he did when he first went to get the car. But...the way he swaggered past Cornbread, smiling at you like nothing was wrong, made your heart drop. 

“Bo…?”

The sound and smell of fresh blood and flesh tearing made you nauseous, almost unbelievably so, to the point it made you take a nervous step back. A frown briefly formed on Bo’s face, only to be replaced by a charming smile again. (The same one you once fell in love with, you thought to yourself painfully.)

“What is it, Y/N?” 

Your eyes left Bo’s to stare at the chaos happening right beside him. And yet, your husband didn’t even do more than glance at Cornbread. "Oh, don't worry about him, baby. He's just a little hungry, is all," he said offhandedly. "Now, let’s go.”

Bo winked at you, causing you to flinch. Your husband never was the type to do something like that before. Even before he’d married you, he’d always go for words first, then actions second. The only one who ever winked at you like that was–

“Come on. I got the car all warmed up, just the way you like,” he cajoled, turning back slightly as if to show you exactly that. But when you didn’t move to follow him, he sauntered back up to the door with a knowing look on his face. “Or...you let me back in there, and we can grab our things and head home?" Bo's eyes flashed an inhuman silver, akin to the way Stack’s did when he came back undead. You found yourself paralyzed by them, even as he loomed over you from the doorframe. "We can make a pit stop, if you like. Maybe even have some fun on the way back." 

“What happened to you, Bo?” You whispered to yourself, desperately searching his face for the man you once married, only to find something else entirely.

Bo’s smile didn’t falter. Instead it grew, as a different voice decided to answer for him. “I did. And ain’t he so much better now, darling?”

“Remmick,” you recognized. The banjo player from before. The one that Smoke had turned away, along with the rest of his group. “What did you do to my Bo?” 

“I think you already know the answer to that, darling,” Remmick replied. And yet, despite the smooth charismatic tone of his, you flinched away from the door, like a mouse that had just gotten spooked.

“It’s better this way, baby.” Bo tried to convince you, unbothered by the new addition at his side. “So why don’t you be a good girl now and invite us all in?”

"You should listen to him, Y/N. Or listen to me. Because I know everything he knows now. And trust me, darling, he really wants you to let us in there," Remmick restated, his words a near parrot of Bo’s. Or was it Bo’s that were a near parrot of Remmick’s? 

“That’s not true. Bo wouldn’t…” 

“I wouldn’t do what, baby? Do whatever it took to be with my wife again?” Bo quipped back. It was so like him, yet at the same time, entirely not. Because deep down, you knew your husband would never ask you something like that. Not if it would put you in danger. 

And yet, this Bo smiled at you lovingly, almost reverently. As if the prospect of becoming one of them was a blessing, rather than a curse. 

"Listen to your husband now, darling. Can't you see that he—that we—just want what's best for you?”

Despite Remmick's words, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Bo. "You're not...you're not my husband."

Your words caused the smile on Bo’s face to falter. But Remmick’s sharpened, eyes lighting up, as if your words were nothing more than a challenge.

"Well, that's not very nice of you to say," he tsked.

But you didn’t care. Perhaps if you did, you would have realized that your fire only drew in Remmick even more. "You did this to him. You...you monster.”

"Me? A monster? I just gave him what he wanted, darling. Freedom. A family. In fact, this was his idea, you know. He wanted to change you first," Remmick revealed with a hungry grin. "And who am I to deny him?"

"You're lying."

"Am I? I know everything he knows now. Every little thought. Every single memory,” he gloated. “I even know how you like to be licked." 

Remmick's words shook you to the bone. But nothing made you choke like the insinuation in Bo's follow-up. "We promise we won't bite, baby. Not unless you want us to."

That was the last thing you heard before the rest of your surviving friends finally finally make it to the door, separating you from the captivating duo once more. 

[dreamivyisla]

ᯓ 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 ᯓ

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ➤ Sammie Moore, Bo Chow, Elijah “Smoke” Moore, and Elias “Stack” Moore.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ➤ a seductive streetwalker crosses paths with four troubled men from Sinners—each seeking release in their own way.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ➤ before anyone says anything, i didn’t know how to include Remmick in this at all. if anyone has any suggestions, i’ll update this and put him in it. i really don’t just do smut, i do angst and fluff as well— these are just things i had in my notes. also, i love Annie and Mary, im sooo sorry to their fans! enjoy!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ➤ sexual content, profanity, 1930s au, misogyny, implied social inequality, prostitution, hair pulling, praise, mirror voyeurism, light breath play, threesome (MFM), dirty talk, creampie, facial, spit roasting, slight sibling voyeurism (if you squint), unprotected sex (wrap it), mild infidelity (Smoke is married to Annie), reader is black (but anyone can imagine themselves), semi public settings (woods, shop, and car). 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈! 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓! 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈

ᯓ 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐄 ᯓ

the cicadas were loud that night.

sammie slammed the front door so hard the frame shook, jaw clenched and chest puffed out like he meant to carry all his hurt in it. his daddy had gone off on him again, red in the face and hot with shame over something sammie never got a say in. didn’t matter what the boy tried to do—wasn’t never enough. so he stormed out ‘round sundown, boots crunching dry leaves, hands balled in fists like he might hit something just to feel his own power.

he didn’t go far. didn’t need to. the trees just outside town were close enough, thick and dark enough to hide in. he liked the quiet, liked being alone with his thoughts. but he wasn’t alone tonight.

you were leaning up against a tree with one leg bent, cigarette glowing between two fingers, dark skin catching what little moonlight broke through the branches. you looked him over once, then again slower, like you could taste the anger still burning off him.

“ain’t safe out here, sugar,” you said, voice low and knowing.

he didn’t say nothing at first. just stared. you were pretty in a way he didn’t know how to name. face soft, mouth even softer. but it was your eyes that got him—eyes that saw through folks, picked apart whatever armor they thought they had on.

“ain’t safe nowhere,” he muttered, finally stepping close.

your brows lifted, and your lips curved. “you lost or just mad?”

“don’t matter,” he said. “just needed outta there.”

you took a drag, then reached up to pull the cigarette from your lips and hold it out to him. he hesitated, then took it, fingers brushing yours. you leaned in real slow, smelling like something sweet and strong—cheap perfume, maybe, or flowers from town. you were dressed for work, short skirt and a blouse with too many buttons undone, but you held yourself like a woman who didn’t owe no man anything.

“you wanna work some of that heat off?” you asked, voice thick and sultry. “i can help you forget.”

his breath caught. he glanced back toward home, then down at your hand, now trailing slow along his belt. he didn’t ask what you meant. didn’t ask your name. just nodded, voice low and hoarse: “yeah… yeah, i want that.”

you took his hand and led him deeper into the trees, heels barely making a sound. the woods swallowed you both up.

the clearing was narrow and quiet. moss underfoot, pine needles falling slow from above. you pushed him back against a tree, rough bark scratching at his shirt. you moved like water, smooth and certain, all hips and hands and heat. he let you kiss him first—eager, unpracticed—but full of hunger. his mouth chased yours, breath ragged, teeth grazing your lip like he didn’t mean to but liked how you gasped.

his hands found your thighs, then slid up your skirt. you didn’t stop him. just whispered, “slow down, baby. let me take care of you.”

he didn’t expect you to drop down like that, knees sinking into dirt. didn’t expect your mouth warm around him, tongue patient and filthy. he bit down a groan, one hand braced on the tree, the other fisting your hair like it was all that grounded him. when you looked up, eyes glossy and full of heat, he damn near lost himself.

“shit—keep goin’. don’t stop,” he begged, voice cracking like something inside him just snapped loose.

you didn’t. you worked him slow, teasing your tongue along the underside, letting your spit coat him all the way down. he was thick and twitching in your mouth, hips jerking forward despite himself.

when he pulled you up, it was clumsy and greedy, mouth crashing against yours as he walked you backward. he laid you down on your back over the moss, one knee between your legs, your skirt bunched up around your waist.

“tell me you want this,” he murmured against your throat, voice almost broken.

you cupped his jaw, dragging your nails against the stubble. “i do, baby. want it all.”

he slid inside you slow, shuddering at the way your walls pulled him in. it wasn’t rushed—it was messy and breathless, him holding onto you like a lifeline, like you were the first real thing he’d touched in weeks. the moon hung overhead, pale and distant, but down here on the forest floor, it was hot skin and gasps and sweat.

“feels good?” you whispered, biting his earlobe.

“yeah… yeah, you feel too damn good.”

his rhythm got rougher, hands gripping your hips, eyes half-lidded and wild. he muttered your name between curses, begged you to keep sayin’ his. you scratched down his back when he hit that spot just right, and he moaned—loud, unashamed. the boy was falling apart inside you.

you wrapped your legs around him tighter, rode each thrust like it meant something. and to him, it did.

he came with his face buried in your neck, hips stuttering, voice hoarse and needy. he didn’t pull away right after. just lay there, chest heaving, arms wrapped around you like the woods might take you away if he let go.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈

ᯓ 𝐁𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐖 ᯓ

the streets were quiet by the time you wandered up to the front of chow’s store. lantern light flickered dim behind the window, casting long shadows over the cans and jars still lined up neat on their shelves. you leaned against the wall beside the door, arms crossed, watching through the glass like you’d come to shop after hours.

but you weren’t there for dry goods.

bo chow was inside still, methodical as ever. sleeves rolled, eyes sharp. he didn’t rush—not even to close up. he moved with purpose, like a man who’d never known sloppiness, who found control in every motion. the silence around him was almost holy. you waited.

when he finally came to the front, key in hand, he noticed you right away. his gaze flicked up, settled on you for longer than polite. he didn’t open the door just yet.

you knocked once, slow. “evenin’, mister chow.”

he looked at you through the glass for a long moment. “store’s closed.”

“i figured,” you said. “but i ain’t here for bread.”

his eyes narrowed, but his mouth stayed soft. curious. you knew what you looked like—dark skin glowing against the lamp, lips painted, skirt short, the coat you wore not doing much to hide what you were. you watched the way his gaze dipped, then came back up to meet yours.

“you followin’ me?” he asked, finally unlocking the door.

you smiled and stepped inside as he held it open. “nah. i just know a man who needs unwindin’ when i see one.”

the shop smelled like dust and spice and something earthy. bo locked the door behind you. his footsteps were quiet against the floorboards, but you heard him coming close, stopping just inches away. the air was thick between you.

“you offer that to every man workin’ late?” he asked.

“just the ones who look like they never let themselves want somethin’.”

he didn’t answer right away. didn’t even touch you. he just looked—at your throat, your chest, your mouth. he smelled like tobacco and clean linen, the scent of someone who took care with how he carried himself. when he finally spoke, his voice was low.

“how much?”

you tilted your head. “depends on how long you want.”

he reached for his pocket, pulled out a few folded bills. “then don’t rush.”

you took the money and slid it into your coat, not breaking eye contact. “what do you want me to do, mister chow?”

he stepped forward, close enough for you to feel the heat off him. his hand rose, brushing the collar of your blouse. “take that off,” he said, quiet. “slow.”

the coat dropped first. then your fingers worked open the buttons of your blouse, one at a time, the soft fabric peeling back to show your bare chest. he watched like a man starved, eyes hooded but steady. he didn’t interrupt. didn’t speak. just let you give it to him slow, like he was studying something sacred.

“that all right?” you asked.

“it’s good,” he said, stepping behind you now. “but you’re overdressed.”

his hands came to your skirt, tugging it up inch by inch. you felt the rough callus of his thumb over the curve of your thigh, the warm breath against your neck. he didn’t kiss. not yet. just looked at you through the mirror behind the counter, hands sliding up your waist to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples until you gasped.

he liked that sound. you could feel it in the way his hands lingered, in the way his belt clicked open behind you.

“don’t turn around,” he murmured. “keep lookin’.”

you did. your reflection stared back, dark and glowing under the store’s lone overhead light. you looked fucked before he even touched you proper. he knew what he was doing—slow, careful, but deliberate. he lifted your leg up onto the edge of the counter, one knee bent, and slid two fingers between your thighs.

“you’re wet already,” he murmured, his voice flatter than it should’ve been.

“wanted you soon as you opened that door,” you breathed.

he pressed into you slow, fingers curling just right. his other hand wrapped around your throat—not choking, just grounding. your mouth parted, a moan caught low in your chest. he leaned in, finally letting his lips brush your jaw.

“you make a lotta noise?” he asked.

“when i’m fucked right.”

he grunted, then pulled out his fingers and pushed his cock between your thighs. he was thick and warm, sliding in slow while you braced yourself against the wood. the stretch made your eyes flutter, but you didn’t look away. he held you open with one hand on your hip, the other gripping the back of your neck.

“watch yourself take it,” he growled. “watch how good you look.”

you did.

he fucked you like he had something to prove—slow, deep thrusts that made the jars on the counter rattle. he didn’t talk much, just groaned low when your walls squeezed him, when you pushed back against his hips and begged for more.

“you ever done this here before?” you panted.

“no,” he said. “only you.”

you smiled, even through the moans. “guess i’m lucky.”

he didn’t answer. just fucked you harder, both of you framed in that dusty mirror, skin slick, eyes burning. he wrapped your braid around his fist and tugged just enough to arch your back.

you came first, gasping out his name, your whole body shuddering. he kept going through it, let you ride the wave before he stiffened behind you and came with a grunt, hips jerking against your ass.

when it was over, he stayed close. his breath was warm at your nape.

“you need water?” he asked, voice quieter now.

you nodded. “and a seat.”

he helped you fix your blouse, even though it stayed wrinkled, and led you to the back where it was darker. he didn’t say much more. just gave you the drink and let the silence fill back in.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈

ᯓ 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊 ᯓ

the gravel kicked up soft under the tires as smoke turned off the main road. they weren’t far outta town—just where the streetlights started thinnin’ and trees lined both sides like shadows that kept quiet. it wasn’t late, but it felt it. the kind of quiet that came after a long night, the kind where everything settled except the things boilin’ up inside a man.

stack had his boots propped up on the dash, jaw tight, cigarette half-burned between his fingers. he hadn’t said a word since they got in the car.

smoke kept his eyes on the road, hands tight on the wheel.

“mary said she ain’t waitin’ around,” stack muttered, finally. “she mean it this time.”

smoke didn’t answer right away. he never rushed his words. just drove a bit slower, head dipped like he was thinkin’.

“you love her?” he asked.

stack scoffed, took a drag. “i’m mad at her, not in love. she don’t listen. always talkin’, never hearin’ me.”

“so you pick fights to get her to feel you.”

stack turned to look at him. “you pickin’ sides now?”

smoke sighed through his nose. “i’m sayin’ you hurtin’. that’s all. figured drivin’ out here might cool your blood down.”

“ain’t nothin’ gonna cool me off tonight,” stack said, eyes low.

they pulled over by the edge of the trees, engine cutting out. smoke leaned back in the seat, rolled his shoulders, the air around them thick and humid. cicadas buzzed, same as they always did this time of year.

then came footsteps.

soft ones, but with a purpose. a shadow moved out from behind a bush up the road—a woman, hips swayin’, dark as night and wearin’ red like she meant for someone to stop. you had on heels, a skirt too short for decency, and lips painted like a sin.

stack leaned forward, grinning. “well, look at that.”

smoke frowned. “don’t.”

“don’t what?” stack asked, already half out the window. “evenin’, darlin’. you lost?”

you laughed, soft and low. “nah, baby. i found exactly where i need to be.”

“mm. that right?” stack stepped out the car, walked up with his usual attitude. “you workin’?”

“i ain’t standin’ here for fun.”

smoke stayed in the driver’s seat, watching you through the windshield. his jaw ticked. he was married. he didn’t play around. not like stack.

but you looked good. real good. skin like honey at dusk. lashes thick, hips round. you leaned over the passenger side, resting your arms on the open window.

“i can make you both feel better,” you said, eyes on stack first, then smoke. “you mad at your girl. and he—” you nodded at smoke, “—he look like he ain’t been touched in months.”

stack laughed. “she read you like a book, boy.”

smoke shook his head, but didn’t argue. “we don’t need all that tonight.”

“i do,” stack muttered.

you grinned, leaning in more. “i can start with him, if you wanna watch.”

stack looked to smoke, eyes lit with something cocky. “that alright, big brother?”

“man, you crazy.”

“you stay in the car. just lemme get a taste.”

smoke opened the door slow. stood up. the moon lit up half his face, serious as stone.

“she a stranger.”

“so? so was mary.”

smoke looked at you hard. you didn’t flinch. instead, you reached for stack’s belt, tugged it loose with a teasing smile.

“you want this?” you asked.

stack nodded, breath hot. “hell yeah.”

“then get in the back.”

you straddled stack in the backseat, legs spread over his lap, your hands braced on the window behind him. the car creaked under you, but you didn’t care. his cock was thick and twitching, and you took him slow, your slick heat swallowin’ him inch by inch. he grunted, head falling back, fingers bruising your hips.

“goddamn, girl… you tight.”

“you like that?” you breathed, rollin’ your hips deep.

“fuck yeah. bounce f’me.”

you moved with practiced rhythm—slow grind, fast drop, every motion makin’ stack grunt and curse. his head knocked the glass behind him, but he didn’t slow. his hands pulled your blouse down, mouth suckin’ hard on your nipple, groanin’ like a man finally let off his leash.

smoke stayed up front. for a while.

but he kept lookin’ back through the mirror. kept hearin’ the wet sound of your pussy takin’ stack’s cock, the slaps of skin, the little moans you made when stack whispered filth in your ear.

you caught his eye once—right in the mirror—and said, soft as sugar:

“you ain’t gotta just watch, baby. i got a mouth too.”

his hand clenched on the steering wheel.

“annie waitin’ for me.”

“so go home hard,” stack called, smirkin’. “or stay and get it wet like me.”

smoke opened the door.

he didn’t say nothin’. just walked around, opened the other back door, and slid in behind you. his hands went to your waist, grip firm.

“you sure?” he asked low against your neck.

“yeah,” you whispered. “i want both of you.”

stack didn’t stop fuckin’ up into you, even as you leaned forward to take smoke’s cock into your mouth. you opened wide, tongue out, eyes locked with his.

he hissed. “fuck, you nasty.”

you moaned around him, the sound buzzin’ down his spine. he held your head with care at first, then firmer, guiding your rhythm as you sucked him deep. his cock hit the back of your throat, and you took it, droolin’ all over his length.

stack was close. he fucked up into you faster, sweat runnin’ down his temple.

“she squeezin’ me so good. damn.”

you moaned again, drool and spit runnin’ down your chin as you choked on smoke’s dick. both of them were pantin’—stack inside you, smoke in your mouth, both brothers losin’ their minds.

you were used, worshipped, fucked full on both ends.

stack came first, holdin’ your hips tight as he spilled inside you with a loud groan. he bit your shoulder, ridin’ it out. smoke pulled your head back, stroked his cock over your tongue until he came too, thick and hot, lips parted as he cursed your name.

they both sat back, breathless.

you wiped your mouth, smiling slow. “anybody feel better now?”

stack laughed, chest still heaving. “shit… i feel brand new.”

smoke stared at you for a beat, then nodded once. “don’t tell nobody.”

“your secret’s safe,” you whispered, pulling your blouse up slow.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐕𝐘𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀.

[thevelvetwhispers]

This masterlist is a quick guide for my favorite fics and the writers that have been putting in work since the drop of this movie.

To the writers on this platform that take time to do what you love… if you don’t hear it enough….. BABY, YOU’RE APPRECIATED!

Let us read and enjoy. I'll update when I can, or if you have some that you'd like added let me know.

NOTE: If you’d like your work to be removed just let me know.

LAST UPDATED: 6/10/2025

Series

@uzumaki-rebellion — choose one [smoke X reader X stack]

@uzumaki-rebellion — ibeji series

@hotgrlcece fever series [stack X reader]

@theegyal — faded [smoke X annie]

@theegyal — hush [smoke X annie]

@artsninspo — penname: delta wise

@bleufu1 — honeysuckle's [sammie X reader]

@theethighpriestess — blood money [stack X reader]

@unholyhelbig — all i’ve ever known [mary X reader]

@theegyal — when i was your man [smoke X annie]

One-Shots

Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore

Read Here

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore

Read Here

Smoke & Stack

Read Here

Smoke & Annie

Read Here

Remmick

Read Here

Stack & Mary

Read Here

Sammie 'Preacher Boy' Moore

Read Here

Annie

Read Here

Pearline

Read Here

Bo Chow

Read Here

[classytiti]

Red Stains

featuring: Bo Chow x Fem!Reader warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI Master List Here

you never thought you’d be visiting bo, not really. you thought about it sometimes, late at night, after he gave you that proposition. he said he’d be there for you, for “anything.” and you believed him, the way you do when a man like that looks you in your eyes and says it like he means it.

you’re at his store now, standing there like you’re seventeen again, like you got no sense, clutching your purse in your small hands. bo was the kind of man who brought the calm to your storm, who made your shoulders drop when you didn’t even realize they were up around your ears. a man who was serious about his business, sleeves rolled, sweat on his brow, counting boxes and stocking cans without complaint. you always liked watching him work, even if you’d never say that out loud.

your brothers were the twins, smoke and stack, and since you were young they’d tell you about how cruel men could be, how a girl like you should keep her eyes sharp and her legs closed until you found a proper black man to take care of you. but bo wasn’t black, and bo wasn’t cruel, and maybe he was proper in all the ways that mattered. your brothers were friends with him, pulling him in to help out at their juke joint when the crowds got thick and the nights got long, ever since they came back from chicago with new scars and stories they’d never tell you.

you snap back to the moment when you hear footsteps, slow and steady across the dusty wood floor. the air in the store is cool and quiet, the kind that settles in your bones and makes you forget the heat outside. you see him walking toward you, cigarette tucked behind his ear, white apron now crumpled in his hand as he tosses it aside like it don’t matter. he stops in front of you, close enough you can smell the clean soap and tobacco on him, close enough you can see the small scratch on his knuckle, close enough you feel your breath catch.

“you okay? you barely come here,” he says, voice low, eyes dropping down the length of you. down the silk, salmon-colored dress you wore on purpose, just to see if he’d notice. down to your soft thighs and back up to your neat curls, pinned just so, trying to look grown.

it was always like this, ever since the twins first introduced you to him, standing there in the back of the juke joint, hands in your pockets, eyes too wide. bo was a good man. the kind of man who called your brothers “sir” when they deserved it and “man” when they didn’t. the kind of man who didn’t look at you too long but never looked away either.

you were twenty-one now, and you wanted to date, wanted to feel a man’s hand on the small of your back when he walked you home, wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone you chose for yourself. but you knew your brothers wouldn’t like it, wouldn’t like the way bo looked at you, wouldn’t like the way you looked back.

but standing here now, in the quiet, with bo looking at you like he’d do just about anything to keep you safe, you start to think maybe you didn’t care. maybe you wanted to know what it felt like to choose him anyway.

“yeah… i just, need to talk,” you say.

he nods toward the back room, where they keep the storage and a small desk and chair, and you follow, your soft shoes whispering against the floor. the door clicks shut behind you, and it’s dim in here, the light from the high window cutting across boxes of canned peaches and flour, across the single wooden chair and the small desk covered in receipts and a half-empty coffee cup.

you stand there for a moment, clutching your purse like a child, until you set it down on the desk, your hands trembling.

“what’s going on?” bo asks, leaning against the wall, arms crossing over his chest, his eyes calm, waiting. he’s always waiting with you.

you look down at your hands, picking at your nails, then up at him, meeting his eyes, and it’s like your chest splits open. “i know this is bad,” you whisper, your voice small. “i know my brothers… they wouldn’t like it. but i… i want you.”

it’s so quiet you can hear the hum of the old icebox out front, the soft tick of the clock on the wall, the way your breath hitches in your throat.

he doesn’t move for a long moment, just watches you, jaw tightening, eyes dark. “you don’t know what you’re asking for, baby,” he says, voice low, rough.

“i do,” you say, taking a step closer, your silk dress brushing against your legs. “i been knowing it for a while now.”

you can see the way he’s fighting it, the way he looks away, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, how his chest rises and falls slow, controlled, like he’s holding back a storm. “your brothers—”

“i don’t care,” you breathe, taking another step, close enough to smell the smoke and soap on him, the warmth of him sinking into your skin. “i don’t care.”

you reach out, your small hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm. it makes your head spin, how solid he feels under your touch, how he looks down at you like he’s trying to memorize every part of your face.

“baby,” he whispers, almost like a prayer, before his hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

you don’t know who moves first, but then his mouth is on yours, and it’s like you’ve been holding your breath for years. he kisses you slow at first, careful, but you press closer, your hands clutching at the front of his shirt, pulling him down, pulling him in, until he groans against your lips and his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you, pressing you back against the wall.

your dress hikes up around your thighs, the cool air hitting your skin, making you shiver. his hands are everywhere, sliding down your sides, gripping your hips, pulling you closer as his mouth moves over yours, hungry now, teeth catching on your bottom lip, tongue sliding against yours until you whimper into his mouth.

“tell me you want this,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his forehead resting against yours.

“i want this,” you whisper, your voice shaking, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him back down to you. “i want you.”

he curses under his breath, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs, lifting you easily, setting you down on the edge of the desk, papers scattering to the floor. your legs open for him, the silk of your dress sliding up, and he steps between them, his hands gripping your knees, sliding up your soft thighs, pushing the fabric higher until it’s bunched around your waist.

his mouth is on your neck, kissing, biting, sucking soft marks into your skin as you tilt your head back, your hands clutching at his shoulders. you can feel how hard he is, pressed against you, and you rock your hips forward, gasping at the friction, your nails digging into him.

“fuck,” he mutters against your throat, his hand sliding up your thigh, slipping under the thin cotton of your panties, fingers brushing against your heat, making you gasp, making your hips buck.

“bo,” you whimper, your eyes fluttering shut, your breath coming fast as he strokes you, slow at first, then faster, his thumb circling that spot that makes you see stars.

“so wet for me, baby,” he growls, kissing you again, swallowing your moans, his free hand sliding up your back, pulling you closer as you move against his hand, chasing that edge, needing it, needing him.

“please,” you gasp, your head falling forward against his shoulder, your body shaking as you get closer, closer, until it breaks, heat flooding through you, your thighs trembling as you come against his fingers, your moans muffled against his neck.

he holds you through it, whispering your name, kissing your temple, your cheek, your lips, until you’re breathing again, until you open your eyes and look at him, your lips parting when you see the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing in the world.

“you sure?” he asks, voice rough, forehead pressed to yours.

“yes,” you breathe, reaching down, your fingers fumbling with his belt, pulling it open, your hands shaking but certain. “i need you.”

he groans, kissing you hard as he pushes your panties to the side, lining himself up, and then he’s pressing in, slow, careful, stretching you, filling you, making you gasp, making your nails dig into his shoulders as your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“you feel so good,” he grits out, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he starts to move, slow at first, each thrust deep, making you gasp, making you cling to him, your head falling back as your mouth falls open, soft moans spilling out with each movement.

the desk creaks under you, papers falling to the floor, the air thick with your quiet cries, his rough groans, the wet sounds of him moving inside you, the smell of sex and sweat and something sweeter you can’t name.

“look at me,” he says, and you do, your eyes meeting his, and it’s too much, the way he looks at you, like you’re his, like he’s never letting you go, like he’s been waiting for you.

“bo,” you cry out, your body tightening around him, your nails scratching down his back as you come again, clenching around him, pulling him deeper, and he follows with a broken groan, burying himself inside you as he spills, his arms holding you tight, his face buried in your neck as he shudders against you.

you stay like that, clinging to him, your bodies trembling, the air thick and quiet, until he pulls back just enough to look at you, brushing your curls from your damp forehead, kissing you soft, slow, like he’s memorizing the taste of you.

“i got you, baby,” he whispers, and you believe him, even if it’s bad, even if it’s wrong, because for the first time, you feel like you chose something that was yours.

and you chose him.

[twistedsistas-stuff]

So yall mean to tell lil ole me yall don’t want Bo chow at all? Or the women of the franchise NOT EVEN SLIM . get yall asses in these requests

[gweelczz]

“Paula”

Bo Chow x OC (Rosetta)

Genre: angst, hurt and comfort, happy ending

Warnings: vampiric turning process, Rosetta shoots a gun

Summary: Rosetta has a traumatic experience and Bo steps up as a husband

The shotgun blast echoed like judgment through the backwoods. Smoke curled through the trees and settled like a veil over Rosetta’s face, over her soul. The air went still. Even the frogs fell silent.

Paula’s body hit the ground with a thud too soft for the weight of what just happened. Her friend. Her sister in spirit. Her prayer partner. Her keeper of secrets on long Sunday walks.

Now gone.

And worse than gone—turned.

It had all happened so fast.

Rosetta and Paula had stepped outside the juke joint for air. The heat had been thick as stew and the music inside loud enough to rattle ribs. Rosetta had laughed at something Paula said, head thrown back, eyes catching moonlight. It was just like old times—until it wasn’t.

That’s when Stack came staggering out of the shadows, eyes wild, shirt torn, blood trailing from his mouth.

“Stack?” Paula had asked, brows furrowed.

But it wasn’t Stack anymore. Not really.

He lunged.

Rosetta screamed, tried to pull Paula back—but he was too fast. His teeth sank into Paula’s neck before she could even raise a hand.

The sound Paula made — a wet, gurgling cry — would haunt Rosetta ’til her dying day.

Rosetta had fired once, hitting Stack in the shoulder. He hissed and vanished into the dark like a demon scorned. But it was already too late.

Paula turned.

Her eyes changed first — no longer soft brown but milky, hungry, wrong. Her mouth dripped blood, her movements jerky and too fast. Rosetta backed up, hand trembling on the shotgun.

“Paula… baby, it’s me… it’s Rose…” she pleaded.

But Paula growled low in her throat and charged, hands clawed, teeth bared.

Rosetta screamed.

And pulled the trigger.

The blast knocked Paula backward into the dirt. She lay still, a trickle of blood running from her lips. The air filled with gunpowder and grief.

Rosetta stood frozen at the doorway of the juke joint, her shotgun still hot in her hands. The blood on her skirt wasn’t hers. The tears streaming down her cheeks weren’t new. But this grief—this pain—felt ancient. Felt like something her ancestors had cried over before her.

She leaned back hard against the door, let the wood hold her up, and the dam inside her finally broke.

Her sobs came loud and raw, torn from somewhere so deep it made her knees buckle.

That’s when Bo came.

He didn’t ask no questions.

Didn’t need to.

He saw the blood. He saw the gun on the floor. He saw the way Rosetta’s hands shook and how her gold eyes were drowning.

He moved fast, like a man made of stone and fire.

“Rosie—” he breathed, catching her just as she collapsed.

She reached for him like she was drownin’. And he was the only thing keepin’ her above water.

Bo caught her in one arm—just one, strong and sure—and lifted her clean off the floor like she weighed nothing at all. Cradled her bridal-style, like a man holdin’ somethin’ sacred. She pressed her face into his chest, sobs shakin’ her whole body.

“I had to, Bo… she was gone… she was gone, baby,” she wailed into his shirt.

“I know, baby,” he said low, his voice thick. “You did what you had to.”

He carried her past the dim tables and half-spent candles of the juke joint. Past the door where the blues still buzzed low and lazy. Into the back room, quiet and warm, where the world couldn’t reach them.

He sat down slow in the old chair nestled by the window, still holdin’ her in his lap like a child.

Rosetta curled against him, fists full of his shirt, tears soaking through the fabric like rain on dry earth.

Bo wrapped both arms around her now, rockin’ her gentle, one hand slid up into that big curly afro of hers, cradlin’ her scalp like he was prayin’ through her pain.

“I’m right here,” he murmured. “Ain’t lettin’ go. You hear me, Rosie? You safe. You with me.”

He kissed her temple. Her forehead. Her cheek.

Each kiss like a promise.

Her sobs slowed, but didn’t stop. She was still tremblin’. Still grieving. Still fightin’ ghosts.

Bo didn’t try to hush her.

He let her cry. Held her tighter. Let her fall apart in his arms so he could piece her back together.

Because that’s what he did.

That’s what love did.

———

The morning came slow, like honey poured from a cold jar.

Sunlight pushed gently through the cracks in the juke joint’s walls, cutting soft gold lines across the dusty wooden floor. The blues had long faded into silence. Folks had gone home, and the air was heavy with the memory of the night before.

Bo was still asleep in the chair, head tilted back, his arms slack but warm around Rosetta, who hadn’t moved in hours.

She stirred first.

Her eyes opened, red-rimmed but steady now. The weight of the night still sat on her chest like a stone, but underneath it—like roots pushin’ through hard ground—there was something stronger.

Purpose.

She rose slow, careful not to wake him.

He mumbled in his sleep, brows furrowed. Rosetta kissed the corner of his mouth and whispered, “I ain’t goin’ far, baby.”

She moved through the back room barefoot, her long nightdress brushing the floor like a whisper. Her hands found her satchel, the one she never traveled without, full of things passed down through the women in her bloodline—blessed herbs, scraps of cloth, red thread, bones wrapped in linen, river stones, and oil pressed from roots she’d dug herself.

She laid them out on the table one by one, like she was settin’ a place for God.

First, she lit a white candle. Let the flame rise clean and bright.

Then she pulled a sprig of dried rosemary and crushed it between her fingers. For remembrance and clarity.

A few drops of oil on the cloth—clove, for protection. Patchouli, for strength. Myrrh, for the dead.

Then, she reached up and unhooked one of her gold earrings—a small hoop that had once belonged to her mama. The metal was warm from her skin, still pulsing with her spirit. She kissed it, placed it gently at the center of the cloth.

So he always carries a piece of me close.

Then, without hesitation, she reached into the folds of Bo’s shirt—still draped over the chair where he’d laid it—and took the button closest to his heart. The thread snapped with a tug. She kissed it before pressing it into the bundle.

She worked in silence, murmuring low prayers in Gullah, in Creole, in the deep Southern tongue of the women who came before her. Words not meant for ears, only spirit.

When the bundle was tied tight with red thread, she held it in both hands and breathed into it—slow, deep, powerful. Her tears fell on the cloth, baptizin’ it.

She pressed it to her heart.

Then walked back to him.

Bo stirred as she kneeled beside the chair, reaching up to cup his jaw with one warm hand.

“Baby,” she whispered, voice thick but sure, “I made somethin’ for you.”

His eyes blinked open slow, soft with sleep and love. “What’s that, Rosie?”

She placed the little mojo bundle in his palm and closed his fingers around it. “Somethin’ to keep you safe. Somethin’ to keep you close.”

Bo looked down at the cloth bundle like it was holy. “You always watchin’ over me,” he murmured.

Rosetta nodded, gold eyes gleamin’ in the sun. “Ain’t gon’ stop now.”

She kissed his forehead and pressed her own against it, their foreheads touchin’, breath minglin’.

And as he pulled her into his lap again, arms wrapped tight around her, she prayed—not out loud this time, not for the dead or the darkness—but a silent prayer, just for them.

Let him always come home.

Let him always know I love him.

Let this charm hold what my heart cannot say when I’m too afraid to lose him.

And in that morning hush, with the blues sleepin’ in the walls and her spirit curled around his, Rosetta held Bo close.

Because love in Clarksdale was never gentle.

But it was real.

And that was more than enough.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

I adding a sinners channel/category to my discord!

Added

[ddlydevotion]

YOU MAKE LOVIN’ FUN 🧸 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Bo Chow Marriage Headcanons

currently listening to: Mound Bayou by Ludwig Göransson

A/N: read part one here 💌! I said I wasn’t gonna turn into a Sinners blog but here I am writing for Bo for the hundredth time.

After he proposed to you, it didn't take long before a wedding took place. Bo makes a good amount of money from his store which made it easy for the two of you to move on from being engaged to legally married. Marrying for love wasn't necessarily common in the early 1900's, so you considered yourself to be an incredibly lucky woman to have met a man like Bo. Sure, he could provide for you financially and the two of you worked well together, but you were also obsessed with one another.

Like I said in my last marriage post about him, he'd love nothing more than to achieve a family with you. He'd constantly have his hands on your swollen belly, kissing it and whispering to your growing baby as if there was a possibility they could hear him.

Bo constantly has a cigarette dangling from his lips while he's working, but he tries his hardest not to do it as often around you.

Places his hands on your hips when he's squeezing past you at work. It's his way of getting his hands on you without raising any eyebrows due to public indecency.

Your eyes quickly flickered to his gold amulet the first time you met, and you later developed a habit of seeking out Taoist bracelets and pendants to gift him.

Always makes sure to treat you to intimate nights out as well as gifts that are specific to your vast interests. He's definitely the type to gift you all sorts of beautifully woven dresses/blouses and refer to them as his favorite clothing options for you.

"I'm takin' ya out tonight. Make sure to wear that blue one I gotchu, alright?"

If you're on the curvier side, this man has to stop his tongue from lolling out of his damn mouth. He'd still love you the exact same if you were slender don't even play with me, but he'd act like a kid around a cookie jar when it comes to your curves. His hands always manage to find the plush inside of your thigh while he's driving/sitting near you, his hand makes a home on the small of your back, he takes it upon himself to sneak an indulgent squeeze to your ass, bracing himself for your surprised squeal and the quick smack you deliver to his sturdy shoulder.

he's very touchy when it comes to you. Bo isn't shy when it comes to allowing his deep affection for you shine through. He'll pull you in towards his chest before swaying you to the melody of whatever song may be playing, He'll hug you from the back while you're completing basic daily activities, he wraps his arms around you & kisses your shoulder as the two of you lay in bed together after going for a third round. You're sweaty, sticky, panting, and yet you're ready to go once more.

He's fiercely protective over you and isn't afraid of puffing his chest out like a male bird in order to defend your honor. He definitely has the "don't disrespect my wife, any problem you have with her you also have with me and you will take it up with me" type of mindset.

modern au! Bo would definitely get your name tattooed on his forearm. Am I saying that because Yao, the actor who played Bo, has tattoos? Well, yes!

He supports you wholeheartedly when it comes to your interests. If you down books like they're glasses of water, he'll build a sturdy bookcase just for you. This man works with his hands, okay? If you enjoy baking or cooking in your free time, he'll gift you cook books and share his family's personal recipes. This man doesn't let you enter the kitchen alone. He's always right there helping you take something out of the oven, handing you certain ingredients when you ask for them, feeding you a spoonful of whatever it is you're making before asking you:

"How's that, baby? Of course it's good, you made it. Alright we made it, don't get smart with me."

He never lets you go through anything alone. If he notices something is eating away at you, he's making you sit down and tell him everything that's going through your mind. You never have to worry about him silently judging you for your tears or vulnerability. He reassures you that it's okay and to let it all out, he never wants you to hesitate before running to him for comfort. You don't have to hide your mess or your pain from him. You melt in his arms, you cry, and you feel safe.

He's best friends with the twins so that means you'll frequently assist Bo in supplying them with whatever they may need for their juke joint

[nothanksofficer]

0.2 we are all sinners (cont'd imagine)

starring: you, remmick, and bo

pairing: bo chow/reader and remmick/reader/bo

warnings: nsfw, more smut, open-at-your-own-risk, dark romance, vampirism, corruption, moral and literal seduction, temptation, sharing is caring(?), reverse harem(ish), hive-mind, manipulation, vampire dreams. THIS IS A SEQUEL, PLEASE REFER TO LIST BELOW.

summary: in this world, there is no grace chow. only y/n chow. and boy, does that have consequences. concept ver: 0.1 0.2 story ver: 1.0

Continues right after where 1.0 left off.

You're hyperventilating as Smoke and Sammie try to block the way so that the vampires outside don't see you anymore.

“Well, ain’t that just rude,” Remmick snarks. “You get away from her, you monster.” “What’s wrong? Can’t a man just talk to his wife?” Bo smirks.

Before you can collapse onto the floor, a familiar pair of hands grab you. Annie’s. 

“Don’t let him get to you, Y/N. That ain’t Bo anymore.” “You can’t trust him, you hear me?”

But despite what the rest of the group might think, trust is the very last thing racing in your mind as Remmick and Bo stare you down like you’re their next meal.  

“You’re the devil,” you hear Sammie say. “And you’re the one who called me,” Remmick replies eagerly. “I sensed you, you know. You and your music.” Remmick takes a step forward, quick to put his hands up when Smoke aims the gun at him. “I want to see my people again. Regain the community that was taken from me. I might be trapped here, but with your gifts, you can bring them back.”  “Don’t listen to him, Sammie. He’s evil,” Annie warns. She’s still holding onto you, her grip the only thing keeping you grounded at this point. “Am I? I’m just trying to bring everyone together. To create the family this world never let you have. And look!” Remmick rests his hand on Bo’s shoulder. “I’m already halfway there.”  Bo winks at you once more, and you can see a slight trail of drool on the corner of his mouth. You flinch, but you can’t tear your eyes away, even as Remmick licks his lips at you hungrily. “Isn't that right, darling?” “You can’t keep us apart forever,” Bo hums, staring at you like he already knows what you’re thinking. “Sammie belongs with us...Y/N belongs to us.”  “No. You can’t have ‘em. Either of them.”  “That’s a shame. Because we ain’t leaving until we do."

You don’t hear the rest of the conversation, ears ringing. You barely make out bits and pieces. Of the clan and their plans for all of you. Of Mary trying to convince Annie, too. It’s not until Stack joins in that Delta and Sammie move to close the door. But by then, there was no unhearing the tempting words of the devil. 

“Because we’re not leaving without y’all. We family. Ain’t that right?” “This is the way. Together. Forever. And I ain’t doing this shit without you. There is no me without you.”

In another world, it would’ve been you who let the vampires in. You, who fell to your desperation to protect the only family you had left. But in this world, you don’t have any other family to protect. Not anymore. 

But every part of you is desperately wishing otherwise. You want to pretend it’s still Bo waiting outside the window. That it’s your Bo out there sending you that slow flying kiss.

But that thought immediately disappears when you see Remmick take your husband’s side, staring after you, too.

“She’s scared of us now. Scared of me.” “She won’t be. Not for long.”

Everyone decides to gameplan and just try to survive until sunrise.

“At least one of us stays awake at all times. If anything happens, if anything so much as flinches, you alert everyone. Got it?”

You don’t know how it happens, but you end up dozing off by the bar. Annie hushes Sammie, telling him to let you rest. In the hopes that your dreams might offer you some comfort. What none of them know is that…you dream…weird.

“You still with me, baby?" You groan as you feel a familiar pair of shoulders between your legs, and your hands raised above your head. Bo chuckles, tells you to keep ‘em there unless you want him to stop. You can barely see him past your bunched up skirt as he digs into you like it's his last meal. "You taste divine." "I could just die between these thighs, if you'd let me." "Louder. Let the whole world hear how good I make you feel." You nearly break after he teases you for too long, hands climbing down to grip his hair. Only, the memory suddenly shifts and you suddenly feel hands forcing your wrists above your head. Your eyes open and leaning over you is…Bo?  “Just like that, baby. You’re doing so good. Such a good girl for us.” You cry out in fear and pleasure when you finally feel the one eating you out rise from beneath your skirts. Chin slick, eyes red, and grinning at you like he just found heaven in your taste. Nothing scares you more than seeing those damn familiar teeth.  “No one can escape me, darling. Not even you."

You’re suddenly woken up by Sammie’s shaking and someone’s screaming. It’s only when you fully get up you realize, the screaming is yours.

a/n: i tried my best and i wasnt sure how to feel abt this addition. ill see what people think before turning it into something more. anyway, notes or ideas on how to proceed would be much appreciated. that, and the gif of bo blowing a kiss...

[mirapril]

y’all… should i write for sinners? i’m having withdrawals from the absolute lack of fics but i have like no inspiration

if yall wanna read that lmk and send some requests ig 😭

[lyssakinzzz]

Requests open!