#I will be drawing stack and mary | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

willyoubemycherryy · 2 months ago

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No Guidance (Stack.M x R)

Summary: You’re just getting to the good part.

Contains: Flirting, some smut, Mary slander, cursing, everyone has a southern accent, platonic smoke with reader, a little dancing, MARY SLANDER, and I don’t care I don’t fucking like her, this is for the _ strictly for the _, kissing, making out, a hint of manhandling, established relationship, choking, allusions to sex and one brief flashback of some impact play, Michael B Jordan fine as hell, fine enough to bring me out of retirement

-There’s just not enough mindless smut of sinners, almost no x reader bc they’re all OC 😔 and please tell me how we feel about the daddy thing bc Stack screams daddy kink and in the next part👀…

A/N: act like I’ve been here the whole time.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉

“Uh-uh. We not doin’ none of that. Not tonight. Get ta steppin’”.

You level a look at the pale woman standing in the doorway, raising an eyebrow when she crosses her arms- fixing you with a glare of her own. She really was lucky you 50 percent Christian- otherwise, you’d have turned her every way but inside out.

It was no surprise that Mary was there- given her history with Elias or “Stack”. Of course she’d come running the minute she heard he was back in town along with his brother and cousin…but running to where? Not up in here.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere cause I have business in there.” Mary points the loud crowded space behind you and you push your shoulder from off the side of the doorway. You knew all about Mary. You may have empathized a little with her but you damn sure didn’t like her. She was the past in a future that needed her gone in order to make it and her refusal in understanding that irked you immensely. To you, she was selfish- plain and simple.

“You also ‘bout to have a foot up yo ass because the only business in there is the one my man is tendin’ to and you can’t possibly be talkin’ ‘bout him?” You pose it like a question but you leave no room for debate in your voice.

She was there for Stack. She wasn’t getting Stack.

Your question was met with a scoff but otherwise silence. Mmhm. That’s what you thought. Stepping back, you get ready to close the door since you were not about to stand and argue with Mary all night; fixing her with the same ugly glare she always gives you before leaning down to whisper in her face,

“Go be a good bitch and find a new master or I’ll be the one to walk you.”

Slamming the door with a satisfied grin, you turn around to go find a friend of yours and ask her to watch the door. It took some convincing since she was the strict one out of your group but it had to be her because as much as you love the twins and trust their judgment (mostly), Cornbread could not be the one to watch the door the entire night. After agreeing that you’ll owe her one, you leave to grab a drink of your own and judging by the look on Smoke’s face as you pass him- you didn’t look happy.

“Ooh. Who did it?” He drawls out as his eyebrows draw together in a slight frown. He knew about his brother and Mary’s sordid past because of course he did but he also knew how you and Stack have been since day 1.

He still remembers the day they met you…barefoot and sass-mouthed serving drinks at your mommas little dive bar.

“Aww twins~ Wait-! don’t tell me! Y’all gots ta be Double and Trouble!” Laughing like a hyena until your mama threw a spoon from the kitchen and you ducked- smacking your teeth before hurrying off to get their liquor.

That was it.

A pretty young server and good malt..until they came back for another couple rounds one night and you were still barefoot but this time, you wasn’t serving no drinks. Instead, you were standing in the middle of the room singing with a voice so sweet and strong that it rang through their head for the rest of the night. Smoke saw an amazing gift. Stack had seen a gift and something more…

“Just some go-go flour ranger. Nobody important.” Damn. Smoke winces with a soft hum at the insult yet knowing exactly who you mean. You always were creative with your insults- never missing in hitting where it hurt. Taking a deep breath, the beat of the music temps up and he passes you your drink and you sip at it, nodding along to the music as you start to loosen up. Tonight wasn’t the night and neither were any of the others. Tonight was supposed to be the continuation of their new pages turning- and that meant the end of whatever beef was between you, Mary, and his brother.

Smoke watches you start to move and raises a brow; broad smile growing across his face, making his dimples pop out as something comes to him.

“You gon’ sing a lil sum’ for us?”

Reaching out, he takes your hand to twirl you with a soft grin and you let go afterwards to fake think for a bit. Sammy currently had the floor and he was doing great plus…you sorta had other plans for the night. Smoke huffs a laugh, noticing that glint in your eyes- the one you got when you were fixing to get a kick out of causing trouble.

“Ohh, I get it. You in a just dancin’ mood tonight, huh?”

You get another drink and finish that one quick before nodding slowly before moving closer with a grin.

“Smoke, y’know, I neva’ woulda pegged you as a dancin’ man but if you’re offering-“,

“Oh nah baby, he ain’t but I am.”

The low words are whispered against the shell of your ear with a heat that sends shivers licking up your spine. Big, familiar hands fit themselves on your shoulders while Stack dips his head lower to press soft, full lips against your throat- directly over your pulse point and your heart jumps; you barely holding back a gasp. You look at the space where Smoke had been standing before he made himself scarce with a lighthearted “don’t wear y’selves out” and try to gather yourself, turning in Stack’s arms to face him.

Lidded, mellow chocolate eyes focused on you with plump lips pulled up in a smirk framed by dimples greet you and you roll your eyes. Shaking your head lightly as you swallow a whine.

There really was such thing as being too fine and Stack was proof. Strong hands glide themselves further down your sides, settling on the space just above your ass, never taking his eyes off yours and the intensity of him sparks something inside you.

“Been lookin’ for ya. Shoulda known yous’ somewhere in here causin’ trouble, hmm?”

It’s a lot warmer than you remember it being a couple minutes ago but no matter how deep you inhale, it doesn’t go away. That’s when you realize that the room hasn’t gotten any hotter than it’s already been.

But you have.

Your mouth barely opens to retort before Stack’s is covering it completely with his- slow, consuming and so deep. You truly can’t help the way you melt into him. Heart pounding with adrenaline and something much more tantalizing at the way Stack leads, plush lips firm against yours as you suckle at each others mouths. You only had two drinks but you already feel drunk; senses heightened and so sensitive that you’re borderline vibrating. Blood flowing through your system with a searing rush.

Stack harshly sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and your pulse drops like a boulder into the lava pooling in your lower stomach; sending waves ricocheting through your body before licking deep into your own just in time to muffle the nasty little moans threatening to slip out while his tongue memorizes every inch of your mouth and the pleasure has you on the way to out of your mind and he knows it.

You were unyielding to everyone and everything else except him and Stack used that to his advantage each and every time. He’d always been good at getting people to listen to him but the way you gave into him was the sweetest thing he’d come to know. From the way your doe eyes would get wide whenever he’d say or do something that set you off and you’d find yourself wanting him- to the way you were purring and sighing like a cat now, snuggling your soft pretty self tight against him while he devoured your mouth; lips smacking hungrily against yours.

By the time you two separate, his hand is a little too close to your throat and you suddenly want everyone to go home.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that baby. 'Else I might think we have a problem.” Stack drags his lips from the corner of your lips to your cheek, rasping lowly into your ear and you whine in frustration, shifting in his hold.

“And what if we do?”

The hand that was at first only close to your neck, slides up to wrap around it. Loose enough but heavy like a collar and you go dizzy from how hard your cunt throbs, biting your swollen lip as you bat pretty lashes up at him.

Now, Stack learned early that you had a thing for sass-mouthing. You, learned quickly that Stack didn’t have much patience for being sass-mouthed. So if there was something you wanted from him, you learned the first time he spanked your ass raw while being stuffed with three of his thick fingers but nothing else- to ask for it real nice and polite. Your tone though, would be the death of you.

“Then I’m sure we can come to an agreement”, his hand squeezes quick before releasing as he presses another hard kiss to your lips, “Right baby?” You nod before you can stop yourself, body roaring with molten need and you blurt out,

“Tell everyone to go home.”

A surprised bark of laughter shoots from his chest and he raises an amused brow as he looks down at you.

“C’mon, you know I can’t. We just opened this place a few weeks ago, mamas. Gotta break it in.” You throw your head back with a groan, rolling your eyes as you mumble under your breath.

“Wish you’d break me in…”

“Huh?”

“What?”

You ask back just as fast and Stack whistles lowly, shaking his head before dragging you in by your throat so close that you’re standing between his legs. He drops his forehead against yours and just takes a couple seconds to look at you- breathe you in before he has you begging for the better half of the night.

“Nah, what was that?”

“What was what?” You could play dumb with the best of em. Grinning innocently like you had all the time in the world to play your games and Stack was all too ready to play with you. Especially when he knew he’d win.

“You gon’ make me get it outta you, pretty girl?”

Your heart skips a beat and he notices your eyes doing the thing when you answer:

“If you think you can then go ahead.”

Stack nods slowly, moving his hand off your throat to take your hand instead. Rising to his full height, he leads you up to the office of the joint, guiding you in first then closing the door behind you both with a click and makes his way towards you.

His stride reminds you a lot of a predator getting ready to jump on their prey and you only hope that you’re left shaking afterwards…

Part 2🫶🏽

-p.s. can y’all guess who’s next?

Another note- agree or disagree about Mary in the comments but be respectful to one another. I delete comments and block people so chill and type accordingly.

#sinners #sinners 2025 #sinners movie #sinners x reader #sinners smut #sinners stack #smoke and stack #stack x reader #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x reader #elias moore x reader #elias moore #elias stack moore #elias stack moore x reader #stack smut

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antlersarchives · 2 months ago

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𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

one-shot

bo chow x reader

summary - wandering on alone in the deep of the Mississippi Delta wasn't a favoured thing, but nor was it an uncommon one. some carefree few would end up along that track from time to time, and their consequence? the last path they'd find themselves walking down in the dead of night with enough living breath to carry them. those damn creatures of the night..

requested by: anonymous 💗

warnings; smut, 18+, vampirism, canon-typical violence, mild gore/violence, bloodplay, stalking, southern gothic erotica, biting, restraint, oral sex (r!receiving), pinv, worship kink, dirty talking, soulmates and soul tied, finding a mate, consensual, 1930s southern history, second person pov.

a/n: based on the song 'scared to live' by the weeknd because when I was thinking of this fic, this is what came up and I thought it was gorgeous,, also thank you to the many peeps who reached out and asked for this!! and yes I added the line between Stack and Mary because DAMN. i hope you enjoy, it might need some tweaks, but requests and comments are welcome and please let me know what you think!

w/c: 5.6k

It was unusual walking around this late at night. Especially alone; at least that’s what you’d been told.

Deep down in the heart and heat of the Mississippi Delta, right beside the marshes and desolate land, there was a calmness in the stillness of the earth, everything full of life and promise, only the devil creeping around the corner to take back what was his. And that’s what you clung to, no matter how much your mama would tell you otherwise, that the dangers out there are too much to cope with, or how the children back in your schoolhouse days would spread rumor; you always found yourself right back here.

Alone.

The night was especially still tonight, the darkness closing in tighter than usual under a cloudless sky. The only light came from a couple of flickering lanterns outside a dim Juke Joint, guiding your path as you walked.

On the porch of the joint, two old-timey musicians sat pouring their hearts into the music they created, without a care in the world, frozen in time, they could forget the industrialisation of the world around them. One man played a harmonica, his weathered hands cradling it with care. The soulful, fuzzy notes wrapped around you, a comforting urge to keep moving forward despite the shadows surrounding you.

Your feet seemed to carry you effortlessly through the opening of the wood, drawing deeper in as you looked behind you one last time, swaying with each step as the music faded into the distance. Heading to the only home you knew without a destination - your own company.

A few twigs crunched beneath your feet as you walked, and the odd branch creeping up on you, the left of you the bayou laid still, untouched - and to your right, the final twinkle of streetlights, was the edge of town, just before they turned off completely. Now, you’d never seen anyone else cross this path; by this point you’d think you owned it simply because you seemed the only one daring or reckless enough to walk it on your own- and you had heard both from just about anyone.

But this time was different.

All kinds of things were catching your eyes, something not ordinary. Snakes, alligators, even the nearest flock of herons that waded over the water, standing as tall as a small child. But that wasn’t it, it wasn’t innocence that followed you, and there was enough life and nature around you to tell you that, whatever it was, it wasn’t living.

Your mind stopped wandering at rustling that came from a bush behind you and you turned on your heel, the soil beneath you shifting with a sigh, and the rustling stopped. You halted, squinting your eyes at all around you, from the floor to the tops of the trees - nothing.

A pair of wings fluttered out before you could blink, hurtling toward you in one swift motion and you backed up into a tree beside you, gasping. You winced at the roughness, rubbing at the start of what would soon be a bruise. Taking a deep breath, you straightened yourself and kept on moving, cursing yourself for even being startled in the first place. It was nothing but a little house finch - your grandfathers old illustration books could have told you that, and you took your life studying this place, your home, this wasn’t anything to be worried about.

However your gut told a different story. You slowed, taking note of a blossom tree, the shadows of purple flowers, you traced the lines of the stems, putting your focus on that instead of-

“Shit-“ A voice rang out from the darkness ahead of you, out of sight, and you brushed the leaves out of your hand, swatting the branch away, crouching a little beside them. A figure stumbled out from the bushes, a man, dusting off his shoulders and catching his fall he stood up straight on the side of the path. He looked around for a moment mumbling something to himself, wiping something from around his mouth - you couldn’t quite make it out but whatever is was was dark, thick.

The breeze picked up and rustled the whole wood, and your eyes trailed him, not moving for a second. He was somewhat tall, with a dark head of hair - well kept and presentably dressed for this time of night. A pair of lined trousers and a white shirt, suspenders keeping his back straight is about what you could make out. A stranger, no doubt, but the voice.. the voice you recognised. His head snapped up and your stomach turned, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on where you’d heard it before.

The heat was unbearable.

And that was saying something for someone who grew up around here. Your arms felt like they were about to give out from the weight of the grocery bags, and you could swear the soles of your feet were nearly burned away in those flimsy old shoes. The street buzzed with life, cars and people rushing in every direction, while music spilled out from corners on nearly every block, making your head spin. You could feel your body start to sag a bit under the strain, so you set one of the bags down on the ground. With all this running around and the pressure to get home quickly, you leaned against the wall to steady yourself.

The only thing that pulled you from your daze was an arm wrapping around you, gripping your waist like a cool washcloth— supporting you. You looked up to meet the gaze of one of the local shop owners. You scrunched your face, trying to see him more clearly, only to focus on his warm and friendly smile.

“Hey, I had to catch you before you fell there, darlin'. Is everything okay?” He let out a nervous chuckle as he propped you up against the wall, gently taking the bag from your other hand and setting it down next to the first. Your ears were ringing, and dizziness washed over you,. You hadn’t realised how hard you’d been pushing yourself until it became almost impossible to move. His hand cupped your cheek, and he looked deeply into your eyes, as if he’d have been searching for signs of life.

He nodded to himself and looked up and down the street before standing upright.” How ’bout we go a little ways away down this street? I’ve got a store down there; I own it.” Pointing in the direction you were already headed, he clicked his fingers at a worker loading up a truck and waved them over to pick up your bags. Gently grabbing your hands, he placed them around his neck.

Bo paused for a moment, a smile spreading across his face as he watched you ready yourself. You twirled onto your side, and he slipped his arm back around your waist, guiding you a few steps and into the shop. He encouraged you the way there, playfully teasing you about being out in the heat and pushing yourself too hard. As you made your way into the store, he leaned you against the counter for support. Before you could voice any objections, his hands found the backs of your thighs, lifting you onto the counter with effortless ease and drawing his hands away.

You settled back with a huff, grateful for the brief respite. And as you took in the store, he had disappeared, returning just as fast with a glass of water in hand.

“Something to take the edge off, huh?” He offered, his voice a soothing balm, as he extended his hand toward you. You weakly accepted it, your fingers enveloping the glass. “Thank you,” you croaked out, your voice hoarse like gravel. He looked astounded, his eyes widening as he shuffled away from where he stood, placing his hands at his sides.

“Agh, she speaks; how are you feeling, Sweetpea?” The playful smirk on his face lingered as he watched your lips gently graze the rim of the glass. Your eyes fluttered closed in a moment of solace, and you raised your thumb in a silent saying of “okay,” feeling the chill of the cold water hit your mouth.

He slanted his side against the counter, his hips swaying slightly as he observed you, watching how your brows knitted together in concentration as you drank, and you could feel his eyes on you.

At that moment, a sense of longing washed over him, his eye lingering on you in a way he hadn’t meant to. He found himself thinking all those things he shouldn’t—how your lips curved into that bright smile, the static shock as your fingers brushed against his, and how your skirt senselessly bunched around your knees. His breath caught in his throat, placing his empty hand on the counter beside you, enclosing you at a distance.

You lazily pulled your hand back and shifted in your seat, meeting his longing look. You noticed the sweat beading on his hairline, trickling down his cheek just etching at his lip and how his mouth parted as he licked his lips, almost panting from the outside , before setting the glass down. Tilting your head slightly, you tried to read the familiar face, hoping by some miracle you'd remember an answer, a name, anything - but you'd only seen him a couple of times, watching lowly from the street. And before you could ask,

“It’s Bo, Bo Chow.” He paused for a moment, breathless. “But most folks around here just stick with Bo.” The smile he offered was like a daydream, a shared one, as he nodded his head, clasping his hands together.

It was him.

You drew a breath sharply. The brush from the leaves threatening to whip you in the face with the wind as you remained at eye-level with it but your crouched feet failed you. What felt like a distant memory was only just a few weeks ago, and it flooded back fast, the soles of your feet still burned and they gave way, but the ground beneath you shifted, you pulled at the earth and when the roots from broke, you fell backward, leaving a snap at your wake. You gasped as the hard mud hit your back, bunching your hand to make a fist to push at it.

Footsteps approached hurriedly and a presence peered from over you, familiar hands reached out for you, leaving no distance in sight, the moonlight lit up part of his face giving all your questions the truth you needed.

“Bo..” You wheezed out loud, grabbing at his arm as he towed you forward, letting you sit up. You felt this before, his touch, but now there was a grip that felt unnatural, it burned with his touch, your limb could have practically gone limp, and yet he barely moved a muscle.

“Woah there, careful baby.” You stood up and he stepped back a bit giving you some space, laughing as you both realised one another, you sighed of relief of seeing his face, something so unlikely here, in the dead of night.

Now it threw you off no doubt, but it was Bo, the shopkeeper down the street who took his own time to help you, the one you looked out for every day, a couple run ins without an acquaintance could tell you he was a gentleman, and many knew that, even you.The store had been shut down for while and he practically had wiped off the face of the Earth. After the incident you heard about in the papers about the Juke Joint everyone kept their heads down, keeping to themselves, apart from those whispers. Like the ones you’d heard since you were young, but now they were prime, the riddle on everyones tongue like a sermon, like some part the new gospel.

However, after that one day, you couldn’t help but think of him, the way he stopped to help you, to pull you close, the way he eyed the structure of your body like it was the holy grail itself. Leaving you to question, what would have happened if you’d have stayed? Maybe you hit your head that day, or perhaps it was the heat messing with you, but that didn’t change the heat you felt inside of you every time you thought about it, an aching, an uncontrolled urge with the way he rested against you, his hand near creeping up toward your thigh. And the way he looked at you now, breaking the silence, didn’t help your distress,

“I dropped my lantern around here some place, give me a second sweetheart.”

He snickered, kicking the dirt around his feet to find the lamp, and you stop there rocking on your heel unit he found it, picking it up and bringing it to the both of you. His eyes lulled at you, checking in as he pulled a matchbox from his pocket, reaching inside for one of them. He slid the box open and flicked one of the matches into his mouth, pausing to close the compartment. You could still make out the shading of his face, watching the way he moved, and the match in his mouth as he swiped it with his tongue, wrapping it tightly around so it wouldn’t fall. His gaze remained on you in the stillness, and as the tip guided along the top of his tongue, his eyes flashed starved with want.

It created a glow, lighting the woods and your faces up orange, he crouched to pick up the lantern beside his feet, sealing the glow inside its glass case.

“You could’a frightened me there.” You laughed off, trying to give some kind of lightness to what had just happened, spurring on conversation.

He held it close in his hands, enough to keep track of you and take a look around for any others, if there even was. “I didn’t mean to scare you darlin, probably shouldn’t have been wandering out here this late as it is myself, but thought I’d take a walk, it’s been one hell of a day.” You quirked an eyebrow now being able to focus on his face, eyes drawing to the corner of his dimples. His smile didn’t falter once, staying at the flat of his mouth, only gracing his face lightly, and beyond his surprise he seemed please. Pleased to see you.

“Yeah I could have guessed.” You wiped your fingers at the corner of your mouth, gesturing to his own. He looked pretty beat up, just without the bruises, or without injury of any kind, but the thick strands of blood that pooled from his mouth proved otherwise.

His face contorted into some sort of shock at your look and he pinched at the drying substance, wiping it into his pants without as much as a look. The look he gave went blank for a moment, like he wanted to say something but refrained, like he was fighting something on the inside.

“So why’re you out here this late?” He took a little step forward, stepping downward from the small, raised embankment he was on before, now at almost level with you, he hung the lantern in-between you both. You didn’t move, rather stilled in your step as he wandered over to you, his eyes squinting a little. “I usually come out here, on my own, it’s rare you see anyone down here past sundown.” You wondered why, why out here, and now. Everything seemed to go silent, enough to hear a pin drop, only that light breeze shaking up your skirts, and tousled his hair just enough to shag in his face, it was calm, gentle even, just like before - but Bo, he seemed out of place, shifting back and forth where he stood, yet confident still. More eager than before.

Like he was trying to make some sort of move.

You continued to ramble and he smirked, “I haven’t seen you or the shop open around here in a while, are you sure you’re alright? There’s been a lot happening in town while you’ve been gone.”

“You noticed I been gone?” He shot back suddenly, the only thing registering, his lip curling a bit.

“Well, you guys own a much needed store in this town, it would be missed if it were to go untouched.” He took another step forward, watching you stumble over your words seemed rewarding. All this time he’d been around, seen you, wanting to do something, it’s not like he was scared to do it, and to tell the truth he didn’t really understand his infatuation at first. He’d seen you walk the streets, crossing by his shop window whenever you’d head into town, the times you’d visit and leave just as fast, cheeks blushing pink when you’d see him. And that’s what stayed with him. Things weren’t all that it seemed behind those four walls, his life felt withdrawn of colour, everything was weight. But you, oh you were light, some beautiful sign, something he chased for, something he was determined to make his. And with his life now, he knew what that meant.

“You know what I mean. “ You feigned confidence in your words, now in reality that a truth, but in honesty, you knew it was more than that; much more.

He took another step forward, this time as you took one back, your heel clicked with the root of a tree, giving a thud as you braced both of your arms behind you, pushing you up as much as you could, feeling the rough bark at your finger tips. “You miss me?” His nature shifted, and his head tilted with it, swaying the lantern as he walked, a few steps distance between you both. The light flickered, so much so the shape of his face seemed to contort.

And his eyes, they glossed over an iridescent white, glinting specks of red and orange, something that you hadn’t seen before. Something that wasn’t human.

But you blinked and they were gone.

They were normal, a darker brown suited them, staring at you knowingly. “You could say that.” Your breath shook, but not out of fear, no, but instead the way he drew near, closer and closer. He flashed you a smile as you tried to think of the right words, but now his teeth.

Another blink.

And the once rounded molars were sharp and jagged, more like an animal, something made for tearing into flesh. And you felt your stomach drop and an ache that pooled downward, one you couldn’t control.

He staggered, dropping his head forward to look at the ground before looking up to you again. He rested his arm on the piece of tree behind your head, getting quieter, though his voice rang in your ears, ”Saw the way you looked at me back at the store, and I should have said somethin’.”

“Bo, that was just-“ He took the final step between you, leaving the lantern at your feet, his finger came up to your mouth shushing you, knowing where you were going with what you said next, seemingly before you did. His eyes still had a distinct gentile in them, the same as the one you knew before, even beyond his new form. And no words had to be uttered to tell you what that was.

The truth you both knew. The limited glint from the light reflected from his eye to yours, and you could see your face in the shine.

“You're telling me that was nothin’, that you didn’t think of about it,” A serious expression on his face, his brows furrowed, he brushed his fingers down against your side, drawing a line against the curve of your waist, “Not even once?” His face flashed with a sense of pride, and the way his pupils dilated was proof of what knew to be true. Your hips jolted forward at the feather light touch and he brought his hand down to cup your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Bo..” Your face grew red, so red someone would think you’d be laying in that beating sun all day long.

“Y/N.. Tell me.”

Inches away from your face he pressed against you, slanting closer, his voice a staggered whisper, and his lips damp.

“Ever since you saw me last..” You looked down at them, seeing drool at the edges of them and you chuckled a little. He sucked in a keen breath as you scraped yourself against the tree, gaining balance, bringing your finger up to wipe at it.

“Hey, you’re droolin’”

“You want some?” Your head shot up at his quip, bangs of his hair falling into your face, your noses touching. You smiled through your flushed expression, the wetness gathered on your finger and he leaned to kiss as it lightly, drawing his tongue at the remnants. Bo moved his face closer so that your hand laid on his cheek, nuzzling his nose up against your own, he pressed himself against you rocking his hips.

Without an answer, you tugged his face towards yours, closing the gap between you, gasping into his mouth at the friction he was causing. His tongue pushed into your mouth with passion, lips locking with yours as he slotted his knee between you, cupping your sex against his pants, leaving no resistance with the sensation, and you pushed down with a whine.

“God baby..” He licked at your mouth, biting at your top lip fiercely, and he dragged down kissing at your jaw, leaving soft chaste, open mouthed marks toward your neck. His lips felt familiar, so much so they tugged at you, on your heart, so much it almost hurt.

“Please..” You whimpered as Bo’s teeth bared at your neck, along your jugular long enough to feel your heart rumble beneath the canines, feel it even. He sucked in a breath, planting a hard, marking kiss before continuing down. His hands manoeuvred down your shirt, pushing through the soft fabric, bracing his fingers over your breasts and pulling away at the buttons, undoing them one by one by one. And he placed himself on the ground kneeling in front of you.

The tangerine tones scattered across your body like a reckoning, and he grasped with the sight of it, not knowing whether to sit and study or ruin you completely. His head rested against your lower stomach, almost begging you, his hands teasing up the backs of your legs, gripping you where you stood. Your mouth hung open, shivering at his motions. You watched, entranced, as he effortlessly lifted the hem of your skirts, pushing the fabric higher until it rested above your hips. With deliberate slowness, he tugged at the corners of your panties, peeling them down around your ankles. The cool air exposed your cunt, sending another wave of shivers through you as he began tracing the length of your thigh up and down with his tongue.

Your hips jolted forward, and he wasted no time in aimlessly yanking at your hips, his hands scooping up at the flesh of your ass holding you up just enough to reach your centre. Bo grunted as his mouth reached you, pulling you back and forth onto his tongue as he sucked on your clit, the tips of his fingers digging in as you brought your hand to his hair.

The black strands now turning into a disheveled mess in your grasp, there being no reservations at all about his drool slicking down the sides of his mouth as he was moaning into your cunt, fucking his tongue into you, fingers continuing to dig into your hips. He gets lost in the way your breath hitches, the way you say his name - over and over again without abandon, and oh how he’s been waiting, wanting to hear that.

“That’s it pretty girl, I’ve got you.” He groans as your taste coats his tongue, thick with your sweet slick, the height of his newfound senses alerting with each and every movement, and he swears that its the best thing he’s tasted, beyond the blood. He plunged deeper and you could do nothing but follow with a string of moans. You fell apart against him, arching your back into his face as you guided him impossibly close, your head falling back against the wood behind you. All of this time, imagining, yearning and here you were now without a care in the world hissing at every touch he gave, every ounce of pleasure he was willing to give.

His motions didn’t relent, mouth warming against you as his he flicked his tongue in figures of eight, only pausing to suck harshly, and it was too much.

Over and.

Over.

You came undone, a white hot strike vibrating through you and your legs trembled, clenching around him with a cry, “Baby..”.

That was enough for him and he nudged upward, cupping your one leg up to his hip and you circled it around his middle shamelessly.

The thick humidity enveloped you as you panted, heart racing, when he finally came face to face with you once more. A wicked grin spread across his lips, his fangs catching the dim light. You shuddered, but it wasn’t fear that coursed through you; it was the anticipation of what was about to happen.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, delicate kiss, and you instinctively squeezed your eyes shut. You were standing before a darkness, a malevolence you had been warned about for years—an evil you were all too familiar with, yet never imagined you could draw so close to but your whole being knew.

“I don’t know if I can stop myself.” He breathed out, all restraint he took against himself, resting his head falling against your shoulder, still kissing at the curve of your neck. But you already felt it, with your body pressed against his, you hissed at the motion of his dick pressing through his pants. You reached down to the hem of his shirt, fingers trembling as you pulled it up, revealing the taut muscles of his abdomen. The heat radiated from his skin, mingling with the dew around you, the atmosphere made your heart race.

You could feel the tension building, the unspoken desires hanging in the air, thick and intoxicating you into a compulsion.

“I shouldn’t do this,” you whispered, though the conviction behind your words was faltering. Part of you wanted to push him away, to run from the danger he represented, yet another part—a part you couldn’t ignore—yearned to lean into the darkness he offered.

His lips ghosted over your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. “But you want to,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, those dark eyes glinting with mischief and hunger. “You’ve felt it too, haven’t you darlin’? The pull between us?”

You inhaled sharply, the air thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and his intoxicating presence.

“Yes,” you admitted, a soft breath escaping your lips. “But it’s reckless. You could hurt me.”

His grin widened, a blend of danger and allure. “And I could do much more than that.” With a swift, fluid motion, he captured your wrist and pulled you closer, bodies flush against each other, the space between you ablaze with possibility. "But what if I promised to keep you safe?"

You hesitated, heart racing as your mind raced with the implications. Could you trust him? Your instincts screamed caution, yet your body betrayed you, yearning for his touch, for the thrill of the unknown.

As he leaned in again, brushing his lips just above yours, the world around you faded into insignificance. In this moment, it was just the two of you, teetering on the edge of danger and desire “Then show me,” you dared. “Show me what you can do.”

He hesitated for just a moment, as if weighing the gravity of your words, before his eyes darkened with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a rush of excitement coursing through you.

The moment his fangs pierced your skin, a sharp gasp escaped your lips and he bucked his hips forward. It was a mixture of pain and a wave of pleasure that stole your breath away. You felt a jolt of energy surge through you as he fed, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, igniting a fire deep in your core - your leg tightened around him.

He caressed your thigh, keeping you pinned between him and the tree and the other grabbing at what he could of your waist as he drank from you, his mouth moving with a sensuous rhythm that sent a heat radiating through your body. Mindlessly your fingers wrapped around his buckle, undoing the chipped metal with a clink that hardly met either one of your ears but he felt it. Your head slacked against the top of his, grabbing at his hips he groaned, and your wetness covered a patch against his clothed cock.

You could feel your heartbeat thrumming in your ears, each pulse syncing with the deep, primal need that blossomed between you, feeling the same dizziness you felt weeks before, this time only stronger. His hands, his mouth, while mostly solid, feel tingly, cold in a way that's akin to walking through fog. His breath is warm as it huffs against your neck, a delicious push and pull of sensation.

With a low growl, he pulled back from your neck slightly, his eyes glinting crimson, a reflection of the warmth of your blood glistened on his lips, a stark reminder of the line you had crossed. “You’re somethin’ honey, let me take care of that for you,” he breathed, his voice low and husk.

The pulse in your neck rippling with every beat of your heart as he rested his forehead against your own, darting his tongue out to kiss you again, giving you the taste of your own blood, now yours, now his.

Bo leered at you and you all you could muster was a dumb smile back. He undid the rest of what you started, eyes watching you and you only as he pulled his dick from his pants. Long, and thick, and leaking, he cursed to himself at the aching and moaned, kissing your cheek. The stretch ignited an intense burn and your hands travelled down his back, tugging at the tight muscle, feeling the weight of everything he put against you.

He leaned you all the way against him to where you were nearly laying as though on a bed yet still angled as though lounging on upright against the tree. The new angle pushed his cock to the sweetest pull, pushing against your plush walls and letting a gasp escape you in turn. Bo smoothed the sides of your body while your feet turned under you and you let your body rest on him. He ran over your breasts slowly through the opening of your lace shirt. Nipples long and pebbled, he squeezed the flesh and brought them up before releasing them again. Bo brought his head to rest beside yours as he thrusted into you once more, blood curdling at your cheek from his mouth.

The wound at your neck stung, with every delicious snap of his hips it jerked your bodies, a solidified reminder now every time he pounded into you. Each snap hitting perfectly deep as his hands cradled you and his words filled your mind with him.

“You’re my girl.” He declared before you could even conjure up the thought. “Say it darlin’.” He continued guiding his hand at your leg, hoisting you as he brought is finger to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud, as his end neared.

“I’m yours.” You whined, bringing your finger to ghost atop his own as it circled your clit. The familiar heat in your core began to bubble like the markings of a burning fuse. You turned your head to his and kissed him deeply at the thought, rubbing your clit furiously with the help of his hand and relishing the way his cock completed your body.

“You’ll be mine.” Bo reaffirmed as his words caught every second his hips threatened to stutter at his release. “You’ll be mine forever ain’t that right.”

You could have sworn you saw the waves of Heaven wash over you as the eruption of your orgasm shakes you to the core. The blinding shades of his orbs stuck on you leaving you heaving for breath. Left thoughtless and wordless of promises that carry on with the shaking of your thighs and soft whispers of an ‘always’ from his lips. Bo stilled as he released, head slacking and mouth hanging open he moaned, his hips stuttered into you and the threads of his cum began to leak beyond where he filled you.

He released his hand from your own and rubbed your arms soothingly as you laid heavy against him, bracing you against the tree, his hand smoothing over your shoulders as to be careful. Sweat stuck to you as your hair frizzed out of place, the last droplets of blood dribbled out down your neck and he caught it with his finger.

You let out a hiss at the sensation but pouted, he readjusted your skirts, letting his forehead rest against yours once more, closing his eyes as your head knocked into his own and he grinned lightly. And you regained what was left of your breath as your vision faltered, only able to see his face in the dim glow.

“Now you will be.”

And a promise or a guarantee, who could know? But he intended to keep both.

#sinners x reader #sinners 2025 #sinners movie #bo chow x reader #bo chow #yao #sinners #bo chow fic #its finally here #come get your good good

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tentakrool · 8 days ago

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why does remmick seem like a little freak when other vampires have natural charm and appeal?

tl;dr — sinners challenges the audience’s preconceived notions of vampires by throwing one into an atypical setting, subverting audience expectations to create a fresh vampire story rooted in historical and societal realities

saw a post comparing remmick to other vampires in media, specifically how unlike most vampires, he freaks people out and doesn’t have this suave, unearthly charm… but here’s the thing. he isn’t the one they’re freaked out by. they were suspicious to begin with, because of the sociocultural atmosphere of the time

1. should be obvious why the black characters suspected him of foul play. most white people in 1930s Mississippi did not seek out black companionship. if a white person wanted to deal with black folks, there probably was some kind of nefarious ulterior motive — case in point, the klan guy selling the mill to smoke and stack.

2. the white people in the film had reasons to suspect remmick as well. 1932 set us smack dab in the immediate fallout of the stock market crash of 1929 — the Great Depression. things were rough, and it made desperate people so desperate things. people would walk up to a house claiming to need help, then rob the family blind and sometimes even kill them. for remmick to run up to a white couple’s home out of nowhere and beg for help… that would be a red flag. his offer of money and appeal to their racism helped smooth that over, but their immediate suspicions of him came from the desperate atmosphere of the times and their own struggle for survival. you can tell they’re not wealthy from the ramshackle appearance of their home and their simple clothes. they don’t want some vagabond to waltz in and kill them for what little they have.

3. this would require a much longer post to fully flesh out, but i would argue that remmick does have that otherworldly charm — just for the right kind of person. while most people are suspicious of remmick from the jump due to their experiences with racism, poverty, etc., mary is the one person who seemed to fall for his platitudes and charm… and i would argue it’s because of who she is.

stack tells us that mary has a rich white husband that owns a successful, lucrative farm. she has no need to worry about her livelihood or safety from strange white people. in fact, she is probably used to them kissing her ass because she’s rich, pretty and passes for white. remmick, bart and joan are just white people to her, and they show her empathy and compassion when they learn her mother passed away, which further disarms her. only when they begin exhibiting monstrous behavior (the drooling especially) does she really clock that they’re dangerous.

i bring this up because in a lot of media, vampires find success in charming others because they can relate to them. yes, they are depicted with glamoring powers that can draw people in, but think about the classics.

dracula targets jonathan harker after placing himself in a position of power over him, then goes to hunt mina and lucy, both members of higher society. they defer to him because he is a count — a powerful person societally. his strangeness is offset by their unwillingness to challenge or question his authority.

or perhaps a newer example — lestat and louis in the amc iwtv show. louis is less suspect of lestat early on because he has made a living from dealing with white people, playing to their position of power above him and deferring to them. lestat uses this to get close, then begins appealing to louis’ desire for power over the white men who disparage and control him. again we see that while it’s true that the vampire has an otherworldly charm, it’s their knowledge of power and societal dynamics that makes them effective

we don’t normally see poor white trash vampires, so it seems like remmick isn’t as successful at charming others, but really what’s happening is that the film is challenging our preconceived notions of what a vampire looks like by throwing one into an world that we normally wouldn’t find them in. vampires aren’t normally poor, wounded and hunted — they have power, money, influence and good looks.

that said, remmick still uses the same playbook as other vampires; he just has his work cut out for him, and has to navigate an inherently desperate, dangerous world in more calculated ways to protect himself. otherwise, he never would have had a chance in hell of getting close enough to the juke to achieve his goals. coogler did this on purpose. which is just another way this movie slaps major ass.

gahhhhhhhh this could be a whole paper and i’ll be damned if i don’t wanna write it

#remmick #sinners #sinners 2025 #sinners meta #sinners movie #ryan coogler #smoke and stack

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rdmasevi · 2 months ago

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Bloodlines and Blues

Title: Bloodlines & Blues: A Sinners fanfiction

Pairing: Stack and Smoke x reader fem ( Vampire )

Warnings: None

Summary: a tale of forbidden love, eternal longing, and the complex dance between predator and protector.

The scent of aged wood and spilt whiskey lingered in the air as the juke joint pulsed with life. Smoke and Stack Moore, the twin brothers who had returned from Chicago, had transformed the old sawmill into a haven of music and mirth. Their cousin Sammie’s guitar sang tales of sorrow and hope, drawing souls from miles around.

I watched from the shadows, the dim light casting a soft glow on my pale skin. As a vampire who had roamed the earth for centuries, I had seen empires rise and fall, but nothing captivated me like the raw energy of this place. And nothing drew me in like the twins.

Smoke, with his brooding intensity, bore the weight of past traumas. His eyes, deep pools of pain and passion, met mine across the room, igniting a spark neither of us could deny. Stack, ever the charmer, approached me with a grin, his playful banter hiding a depth I yearned to explore.

Our connections deepened over stolen moments and whispered conversations. With Smoke, I found solace; with Stack, exhilaration. They were two halves of a whole, and I was caught in their gravitational pull.

But darkness loomed. Remmick, the Irish-immigrant vampire, sought to exploit the very essence of this place. His arrival brought chaos, turning friends into foes and lovers into monsters. Mary, Stack’s former flame, succumbed to the curse, her transformation a harbinger of the battles to come.

As the juke joint became a battleground, I stood by the twins, revealing my true nature. Together, we fought against the encroaching darkness, our bonds tested and strengthened amidst the bloodshed.

In the aftermath, with the sun rising and the horrors of the night behind us, we found solace in each other. Smoke, Stack, and I—three souls intertwined by fate, love, and the eternal dance of night and day.

My main masterlist

#sinners 2025 #sinners movie #sinners #smoke and stack #smoke #stack #fanfic #romance #fanfiction #vampire oc #vampire #forbidden love #love #polyamory #sinners fic #sinners imagine #smoke x reader #stack x reader

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enticingmelanin · 1 month ago

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The Reckoning: A Modern Stack x Black Reader Fanfic

The Reckoning || Elias "Stack" Moore x Black Reader (modern au)

Rating: E for Erotic.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, spit swap, and explicit language. No Mary love to be found here, babes. 🤣 18+ Only.

Word Count: 6k+

Summary: All you wanted was to celebrate your friend, but your past wouldn’t let you live in the moment. When old betrayals resurface, will you bury the pain and hold a grudge—or finally face it and allow the reckoning to commence?

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You're enjoying the club atmosphere, letting it sink into your skin. Deep red lights throb through the space like a heartbeat, casting sultry shadows across velvet booths and glass tabletops. Fog hovers over the dancefloor, diffusing the light into something dreamlike. The bass is relentless—low, hypnotic, pulsing in your chest like a second heartbeat. Laughter rings out nearby, glasses clink, bodies move in sync with the music under the seductive pull of strobe lights. For a moment, the energy feels good. Alive. Freeing, even. You haven’t been out like this in a while, and it shows. Your body aches to loosen up, your shoulders to drop, your mind to stop spinning.

Tonight, though, is different. Special because it's Pearline’s birthday. You, Annie, and Sammie had planned every detail to a T—dinner at Marcel’s, one of your favorite spots in Atlanta, complete with warm lighting, shared appetizers, and belly-deep laughter. The food was incredible, the company even better, and the love? Tangible. When gifts were unwrapped and desserts devoured, Pearline had looked around the table and said, “I’m not ready to go home yet.” So, of course, you ended up here—VIP section of a club none of you could name, champagne flowing, the night still young. It was only right that she got what she wanted.

Still, something twisted in your stomach every few minutes. A quiet, persistent knowing that someone else was on their way. Someone you weren’t ready to see.

“Aye, cousins! Over here!” Sammie’s voice cut through the music, loud and sharp as he waved frantically at the entrance to your section. He was grinning, drawing attention from a pair of tall figures stepping into the dim light.

You drained the last sip of your cocktail, the ice clinking as you sat the glass down a little too hard. “That’s my cue to go,” you muttered, already gathering your things.

The protest was immediate from the group. Pearline’s bottom lip jutted out into a pout, arms folded. “Y/N, please stay. You can still have fun.”

“Not with him around I can’t,” you replied quietly, not trusting your voice to do more. Your expression faltered, and the group saw it. You didn’t need to say his name. The ache in your tone said it all.

Just then, the DJ shifted into Glorilla and Meg Thee Stallion’s Wanna Be. The beat hit hard, the crowd exploding in cheers. You should’ve known that song would play tonight. Should’ve known your resolve wouldn’t survive it.

“Oh hell no, now you really can’t leave!” Pearline yelled, tugging your hand like a child in a candy store. “You know this our song, girl! Just one more dance. Pleeeeeaaaaassssse?”

You tilted your head, lips twitching with a sigh. She wasn’t wrong. This track had seen you through makeup applications, glow-ups, and late-night drives screaming the lyrics with your girls. But your heart? It was still tethered to the past, the part of the club where he was now standing, watching. Breathing the same air as you again after seven damn years.

“Go on, y’all,” Annie chimed in, her tone calm, reassuring. “We’ll keep him occupied. Go have fun.”

Sammie nodded, his eyes kind. “We got you.”

“Fine,” you said, dragging the word out like it was being pulled from your soul. “But just this song. Then I’m out.”

It was perfect timing—or maybe fate playing its usual cruel game—because as Pearline led you to the dancefloor, your past and his twin strolled into the section like they owned the place. Of course he wore black. Of course his eyes found yours instantly. But you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a glance back.

You let Pearline pull you into the music, into the red haze and thrumming bass. You danced like your heart wasn’t shaking in your chest. Like your stomach wasn’t tying itself in knots. You moved with your girl, laughing, swaying, twerking, rapping along to every word like you were center stage.

"He don't wanna be saved, don't save him That is not my nigga, don't claim 'em 'Bout 20 missed calls, he faded White boy wasted, Channing Tatum"

You spit the lyrics with more heat than usual, like if you said them loud enough they might actually reign true. You wanted to embody the same cold confidence Meg was preaching. You wanted to be untouched, unbothered, immune. But the truth was, even after all this time, even after all the silence and distance, he still had the power to stir something inside you.

And that was the worst part.

Because deep down, you weren’t mad he was here.

You were mad you still felt something.

Why couldn’t he just let you forget?

The lighting, though dim and sultry, still kissed the golden brown of your skin and cast a low shimmer over your curves. Your dress—cowl-neck silk slip in rich copper—clung to you in all the right places and teased cleavage. Its delicate spaghetti straps showed off your shoulders, and the fabric danced with every movement, catching flashes of red light from the club’s lasers. A thigh-high slit teased with every step, giving just enough to draw attention without begging for it.

The room pulsed with bass and heat, the kind of beat that thumped through your body and into your bloodstream. Between the crimson haze, electric strobes, and the crowd of bodies swaying, grinding, laughing. Some women hyped y’all up, some gave side-eyes laced in envy. Hungry glances followed you, admiration and desire woven into each lingering look. But there was one gaze—hot, heavy, and razor-sharp—that pinned you to the ground.

You felt him before you saw him. That slow burn under your skin. Like being watched by a memory you never quite shook off. You didn’t need to look to know Stack was in a trance, getting an eye full of everything he let go.

The song faded into another anthem, but you were done. Staying any longer felt dangerous, like playing with fire and pretending you wouldn’t get scorched. You needed to get out before it all unraveled.

“Booo. Come on, party pooper,” Pearline teased, dragging you by the hand toward VIP so you could say your goodbyes.

“Bye, love. Get home safe. Don’t forget to text when you do,” Annie said, hugging you tight.

“I will,” you promised, then turned to Smoke as he stepped up.

“Good seein’ you, Y/N,” he said with a casual warm smile, embracing you in a quick side hug.

“It’s good seein’ you too,” you replied, meaning every word. No matter how complicated things got with his brother, you always had a soft spot for Smoke. He was good people. You were genuinely happy he and Annie found their way back to each other. She glowed differently these days.

Sammie pulled you into a tight hug next. “Sure you don’t want me to call you an Uber?”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m good. That little cocktail barely did a thing. It was givin’ more juice than alcohol.”

Sammie chuckled, voice like the richest whiskey. “Say less.”

Then Pearline wrapped you up, squeezing you like she didn’t want to let go. “Thank you for everything, friend. We gotta do this again.”

“Of course, boo. We’ll definitely run it back. Happy birthday. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she beamed.

As you turned to grab your clutch from the couch, your breath caught—and time stilled. There he was.

Elias “Stack” Moore.

First time in a long time. And damn… he looked even better than memory allowed. Same outfit as his brother without a white top—black tank top stretched over a muscled chest, tailored slacks hugging narrow hips, black dress boots sharp enough to cut glass. But while Smoke kept it minimal, Stack stood out like always. Around his thick wrist were layered Cuban link bracelets in gold and platinum. Diamond studs glinted at each ear, and a heavy rope chain sat bold across his collarbone. A fashion statement. A walking temptation. A problem.

You blinked yourself out of it and grabbed your things with purpose, ready to ghost the moment before it swallowed you whole.

“No hug for me, huh?” His voice, slow and deep with that southern molasses drawl, rolled over you like smoke. It used to soothe you, make your knees weak, whisper your name in the dark while you shook under him. Now, it just pissed you off.

You sucked your teeth and strutted toward the exit, hips swinging with extra intent.

Kiss my ass.

Your heels clacked against the glossy floors as you crossed the final stretch. You pushed open the door and stepped out only to be met by a curtain of pouring rain. Of course. You’d completely forgotten about the storm the Weather Channel app had warned you about. No umbrella. No jacket. Just your dress, your heels, your clutch, and your skin about to be soaked.

Guess I’ll have to make a run for it...

But before you could take that first brave step into the parking lot, a black leather jacket appeared above your head like a shield.

The culprit?

None other than Stack himself... Of course.

“Let me walk you,” he said as your eyes met, the gold caps on his canines catching the glow of the streetlights.

Your brows furrowed in annoyance. “I don’t need your help,” you snapped, the sharpness in your tone slicing clean through the air.

He huffed, jaw tight, frustration flickering in his eyes. “You really wanna drive home soak n’ wet?”

Soak n' wet...

You remembered the days he caused you to be exactly that... and not from rain.

“Oh, now you give a fuck about what I want?” you shot back, your voice thick with venom. The words landed hard, making him visibly flinch.

His expression softened. Some of that pride faded as he took a step closer. “Y/N, please. Just let me walk you to your car and we can talk.”

“Talk about what?” you asked, your voice cracking as heat pooled behind your eyes. “About how you promised me you were gonna stop runnin’ the streets and go to school? How you said you loved me, fucked me ‘til the sun came up, and then disappeared without a word? Or… about how you somehow got wrapped up in Mary again when you got back to Clarksdale?” Your voice broke, each word a dagger. Tears slid down your cheeks. “Mind you, this is after that bitch did everything she could to manipulate you into doin’ her biddin’. And let's not forget how her proudly racist ex almost had you killed.”

His eyes closed. He took a deep breath, chest rising. “Baby, I’m—”

“No,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “I don’t want your sorries or excuses. And I ain’t your baby… not anymore.” Your last words came out in a whisper, nearly drowned by the sound of your own heartbreak. The sobs were coming fast behind the lump in your throat, but you pushed through, determined to end this with what dignity you had left.

“Do me a favor, Elias. Leave me… the fuck alone. It’s the one thing you’re good at.”

Before he could respond, you turned and bolted into the rain, letting it soak your skin as you ran toward your sleek white Benz coupe.

When you finally slid into the driver’s seat and locked the doors, it all came crashing down. The tears, the ache, the truth you didn’t want to face. Sobs racked your body as you crumbled in your hands. You didn’t want to admit it, but the pain only cut this deep because the love you thought you’d buried was still alive. Still burning. You were still in love with the boy who’d become your first and only love… and the one who shattered your belief in fairytales.

At this point, it felt like God and your ancestors would have to come from the heavens and manually untether the two of you.

After pulling yourself together and carefully maneuvering through the drenched streets, you finally pulled into the garage of your townhome safely. You sighed as the familiar clatter of your keys hitting the gold tray on your entryway console filled your ears.

Home sweet home...

Your nerves slowly began to unravel now that the warmth of your home wrapped around you. The earthy tones, warm lighting, natural textures, and sweet, spicy scents delivered a calming peace to your spirit. You liked going out and having fun, but it was too easy to be a homebody in a space perfectly curated for your soul.

You took off your heels and padded barefoot up the stairs toward the kitchen. You needed something else to soothe the ache, something warm—comforting. You settled on a mug of hot chocolate, extra marshmallows. The creamy scent rose with the misty steam, following you as you climbed the last flight of stairs toward your bedroom. Your feet were thankful for the plush, fluffy beige carpet that welcomed them with every step.

You returned your heels to their rightful spot in your walk-in closet, then made your way into the bathroom. The ceramic mug clacked against the stone countertop of your double sink vanity as you set it down. A soft sigh escaped you as your gaze landed on your reflection. No amount of powder or setting spray could’ve saved your makeup after the night you had. Thankfully, your kinky tresses were still neatly secured in the hip-length goddess braids you’d spent hours getting done.

You quickly bent over and swept the braids into a messy bun atop your head. After a sip of your chocolatey comfort, you washed the day off your face, leaving your skin soft and fresh. The sound of fabric hitting the floor followed as you peeled yourself out of the tight dress. You turned toward your glass shower, ready to summon hot water to your rescue—when the sharp chime of your doorbell rang out, startling you.

Your brows furrowed.

Who the hell...

You grabbed your phone and checked the Ring camera.

Annie?

Relief hit first, but confusion quickly followed. You had no idea why she was at your doorstep. It looked like the rain had eased into a gentle sprinkle, and the porch overhang kept her dry. Still, you didn’t want to keep her waiting. You grabbed your white fluffy robe, tied it around your body, and jetted down the stairs.

The moment you opened the door, you were met with Annie’s signature scowl and the soft, familiar scent of her vanilla-based perfume.

“Didn’t I tell you to text me when you got home?” she asked, one hand on her hip.

Classic Annie, the protective “mom” of the friend group.

A soft laugh slipped from your lips as you covered your mouth. “Sorry, Annie bear,” you replied, lips pulling into a playful pout. Your nickname for her softened her expression just a little. She was as cute and sweet as a teddy bear—but when it came to her people, she turned into a full blown mama grizzly.

“I was gonna call you after I got out the shower.”

“So I could worry ‘bout you bein’ toppled over in a ditch somewhere in the storm?”

“I’m sorryyyy. You know if you called I would’ve answered,” you whined, dragging the last word.

“And you know if you’d called me as soon as you got in, like I asked, I wouldn’t’ve had to pull up,” she said, eyeing you up and down like a disappointed mother.

You nodded, lips pressed together. “Touché… But did you really come all the way here just for a wellness check?”

“Well… yes and no,” she said slowly, her tone hesitant. “There’s someone else that was worried about you too.” She stepped to the side and your heart dropped like a weight in your chest.

There he stood. Stack. Behind him, you spotted Smoke behind the wheel of his black Tahoe.

“Oh, hell no...” you muttered, your stomach twisting into a knot all over again.

“Look,” Annie began gently, trying to read your face. “He told me how upset you left, and that’s what really got me worried. I know he hurt you somethin’ fierce. And you and I both know I understand your pain more than anyone,” she said softly, alluding to Smoke ghosting her the same way. “I’m not sayin’ y’all gotta kiss and make up. I’m not even sayin’ you gotta forgive him, but…” she paused, exhaling. “At least let him apologize and leave nothin’ left unsaid. He owes you that at the very least. And believe it or not… he’s hurtin’ too.”

Your eyes dropped to the hardwood floor as her words sank in. Your chest tightened. Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face. But another part—God help you—still wanted to hear what he had to say.

“He’s got five minutes. That’s it,” you said firmly.

Annie nodded, offering a small smile before she turned and signaled him over. With every step he took toward you, your anxiety curled tighter around your ribs. You folded your arms and tapped your fingers against them, trying to keep it together.

When he finally stood beside Annie, she turned to him, but his dark brown eyes never left your face.

“Now Elias, you’ve got five minutes to say what you need to say, so you betta make it good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, flashing a subtle smirk before finally glancing at her.

“If he acts a fool, Smoke'll handle it,” she added, only half-joking.

You knew she wasn’t playin’. Smoke had always been the more grounded of the two, stepping into the role of a father figure where their own father had failed miserably.

You gave her a nod. She winked at you, then made her way back to the car. The slam of the car door echoed faintly in the distance.

Your attention shifted back to him.

His eyes flicked behind you, taking in the cozy aesthetic of your home before settling on you again. “Damn, girl,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I see Atlanta’s been good to you.”

His gaze dropped slightly, lingering just a second too long on the curve of your cleavage where your robe had shifted. Your eyes had slipped observing his muscular arms and the mist of rain glistening off his skin. Immediately, you crossed your legs and tightened your grip on the collar, pulling the fabric closed, snapping him out of his daze.

Stay on task.

“Five minutes, Elias,” you reminded him sharply.

He licked his lips and nodded, letting out a sigh. “I—I fucked up.”

“That’s an understatement,” you said, tilting your head as you looked up at him with a raised brow.

His jaw clenched. Hands disappeared into his pockets like he didn’t know what else to do with them. “What you want me to say, hm?” he asked, his deep Southern drawl gravelly with frustration. His eyes pierced through yours, searching, desperate. “That I’m in love with you? That I think 'bout ya eh'ry day?”

You turned your head away, blinking back the tears that had been threatening to fall since he showed up. But he reached out, fingers warm and steady as they gently cupped your chin, guiding you back to face him. You should’ve flinched. Should’ve pushed him away and slammed the door. But the weight of his hand, the way it steadied your trembling—felt too damn familiar, too comforting, to resist.

“Well, I am,” he said softly. “And I do.”

Your breath hitched.

“I just wanted to keep you safe. And that was never gon' be there… And it was neva gon' be with me, not with the man I was back then.” His voice cracked slightly as his thumb brushed along your jaw, slow and aching.

Your heart twisted at the confession.

“I meant what I promised you, I did,” he continued, eyes locked on yours. “But me and Smoke had one last job. One last scam, one last lie, one last robbery... and we’d be free.”

He shook his head, jaw tightening. “But I knew that shit came with consequences. I refused to let that touch you. If anyone ever laid a finger on you…” He paused, eyes darkening. “I’d kill ‘em dead myself.”

You shook your head, tears finally breaking free. “So, you’d kill for me,” you said bitterly, “but you couldn’t just stand by your word?”

He lowered his head, exhaling sharply before tilting his face to the ceiling like the answers might be written there. “Fuck,” he muttered.

When his eyes met yours again, they were glossy with tears. Haunted.

“The job… the money… Mary. All of it was to sabotage what we had. It was easy, and I was good at it. Mary knew that—hell, we grew up in the same house. She knew my mess, enabled it. But you…”

His voice softened.

“You saw me. Really saw me. The good, the bad… the ugly. You saw who I had the power to become. And that scared the shit outta' me, Y/N.”

Tears ran freely down both your faces now.

“I didn’t think I was worthy of your love,” he confessed. “My daddy wasn’t shit. And somewhere along the way, me and Smoke started believin’ we weren’t either. But you—” he paused, breath catching. “You made me want to be better. And I’ve been tryin’. Eh'ry day since.”

His voice cracked as he stepped just a little closer.

“Not just for you, but for me. Because I finally understand—I don’t have to keep payin’ for my father’s sins. I don’t have to repeat that cycle. I’m my own man. I know what I want. And I want you… and the life we always dreamed of havin’ here.”

A smile broke across your face even as your tears flowed, soft and tentative.

“There’s that smile I missed so much,” he whispered with a grin of his own, swiping a hand down his face to dry his tears.

“Boy, hush,” you said with a shaky laugh, nudging his chest. “You can’t just sweet talk me and think I’m gonna forgive you.”

But he had already cracked your armor. You both knew it.

He shook his head, his thumbs tenderly swiping your cheeks. “I ain’t just talkin’. If I gotta' prove it to you eh'ry day for the rest of my life, I will. If you’ll let me.”

You exhaled slowly, heart thudding loud in your chest as you looked into the eyes of the man who’d broken you—and who just might be ready to heal you too.

“If you hurt me again, Elias…” you said firmly, voice steel. “Consider yourself dead to me.”

He chuckled quietly, nodding. “I expect nothin’ less. I’d pick out my casket myself. But I swear to you… I’ll never do that shit again. I only wanna see you happy.”

You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners. “Tell 'em you’ll see ‘em tomorrow.”

His eyes widened with a brow raised. “You sure?”

“You better go tell ‘em before I change my mind.”

Without another word, he took off down the walkway toward the car. You let out a much needed real, unguarded laugh, the kind you hadn’t felt this deep in awhile.

Smoke gave a quick honk as they pulled away. You waved, and Annie blew a kiss from the window. You caught it in the air, heart a little lighter than before.

As Stack made his way back up to the porch, you stepped aside, letting him in. He closed and locked the door behind him, turning to face you like the lost boy you used to know.

“I love you,” he blurted, shy again now that the moment had caught up to him.

“I love you, too,” you replied without pause.

He stepped closer, tucking a loose braid behind your ear with a gentleness that made your knees weak. “And I’m sorry.”

Your eyes welled up again, that single word hitting like a bomb. You wanted to be okay without hearing it—but hearing it now… brought you peace.

“I know,” you whispered.

His lips curled into a crooked smirk. “You gon' kick me out if I kiss you?”

You giggled, swatting at his chest. “I hope you plan on doin’ more than that. You got a whole lotta makin’ up to do.”

His gaze darkened with desire, voice dropping low. “Indeed I do.”

And just as thunder rolled across the sky and rain came pouring again, his lips captured yours in a kiss that was deep, soft, and long overdue. A moan slipped from your lips as he pulled you tight, your hands cradling his face, your body melting into his.

The storm raged outside.

But inside…

You were finally home... and so was he.

He sucked on your bottom lip in the midst of the kiss, slow and savoring. His fingers worked at the knot of your robe, but you stilled his hands, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "I was 'bout to take a shower before you got here. Wanna join me?" you whispered against his lips, that mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

He smirked, eyes already dark with anticipation. "Lead the way, gorgeous."

You grinned, grabbing his hand and leading him up to your room. You put an extra sway in your hips, knowing damn well he was watching. Then, smack! A firm palm landed on your ass, followed by a possessive squeeze.

You gasped, turning over your shoulder. "Elias!"

His rich chuckle echoed through the stairwell. "Don't act like you ain't want it. Walkin’ like that, waggin’ that tail knowin’ I missed it." And truthfully... you couldn’t argue.

In the bathroom, you moved with fluid grace. You lit the jarred candles across the sink, their flickering flames casting golden shadows over your skin. Stack watched you like a man starved, eyes trailing each soft gesture as you flicked the light off, shifting the room’s energy with the warm, amber glow. You grabbed a clean washcloth for him, set it down, and opened the shower door to get the water running—perfectly warm, steam already rising.

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes gleaming with temptation. Your fingers found the knot of your robe again, this time undoing it slowly before letting the fabric fall from your body like silk. Without a word, you stepped into the shower, hips swaying as if daring him to follow.

He didn’t hesitate. You watched as he stripped, his gaze never leaving yours. Every inch of brown skin, every curve of hard-earned muscle made your pulse flutter. And when his boxers dropped—your mouth watered, your center ached. The steam wasn’t the only thing making the air heavy now.

You reached for your African bath net and poured tea tree soap onto it, letting the crisp, herbal scent fill the space. Then, with the damp washcloth in hand, you slowly began smoothing it over his chest and shoulders. He leaned in, catching your lips in a deep, sensual kiss as the two of you bathed one another—washing away regret, pain, silence. Wordlessly sharing the softest, rawest parts of yourselves.

Your kisses drifted from his mouth to his jaw, then down to the faded scars across his chest and arms left by his father. He tilted his head back, biting his lip, breath shallow. His dick pressed hard against your pelvis, and you sighed at the delicious friction. You kissed your way back up, nipped at his ear, then gently sucked on the lobe. A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he dropped his head, planting a soft kiss on your temple.

His grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you under the waterfall stream. Milky suds slipped down your bodies, carrying the past down the drain. Your bun, heavy with water, finally gave way—your braids tumbling down your back. Stack took it as a sign. He turned you gently and pressed you against the cool glass, your back meeting it with a soft gasp. One hand fisted your braids, tugging just enough to tilt your head and expose your neck. A moan slipped from your lips as his mouth found your skin—kissing, then sucking hungrily at the sensitive spot just below your ear.

His hand slid down to grip your thigh, hitching your leg up around his waist. The thick tip of his dick glided between your slick folds, teasing you, making your stomach flutter. "Fuck, I missed you," he breathed against your neck just before slowly easing inside—inch by thick, aching inch.

You gasped, head falling back against the glass as he stretched you open. It had been a while since you let a man touch you… too long, and the last time hadn’t been worth remembering. But this—this was different. Your walls gripped him, molded to him. He cursed low, his mouth falling open as he began to grind into you with slow, deliberate rolls. A small line of drool slipped from the corner of his mouth.

"Baby... mmm, you're droolin'," you muttered through soft moans, breath hitching.

He wiped it away with the back of his hand, blinking like he’d snapped out of a trance. Then his gaze locked on yours—hungry, unashamed.

"Want some?" he asked, voice low and dirty.

Your pussy clenched in response. You nodded, tilting your head back, mouth parted and waiting. Slowly, he let a thin stream of spit drip into your mouth, landing warm on your tongue. You moaned as you swallowed, and he groaned, crashing his lips into yours with a kiss soaked in years of longing.

His thrusts deepened, pace quickening as his hand gripped your ass, angling you just right. Your moans and his groans tangled between kisses until you tore your mouth from his.

"S—Stack," you moaned, voice breathless and trembling.

He lifted you off the slippery tile with ease, hoisting you up by your thighs. Your ass met the fogged-up glass as he began pounding into you, hips snapping with hunger. Your breasts pressed tight to his chest, arms locked around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Ooooh, shit," you gasped, eyes rolling back.

His lips trailed your chin, kissing sloppily through his grunts as your walls clenched around him. With every thrust, his groin nudged your clit just right, and the soft scrape of his low pubic hair only heightened the sensation. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth parting in silent cries as your body trembled with need.

"Mm-mm. Let me see those pretty eyes, baby," he said, voice thick with desire. You blinked them open, brows pinching in pleasure. "There you go," he cooed with a cocky smirk, then rolled his hips deep, hitting your spot with brutal precision. Your breath hitched, lips trembling. Every stroke had your body unraveling.

"Breathe, sweetheart. Let me hear you," he panted, tightening his grip on your thighs. "I know I'm hittin' that spot only I can reach," he growled between groans.

You cried out, high and helpless, your pleasure echoing in the steamy room. He wasn’t wrong—no one ever fucked you like he did. No one worshipped you like this.

"I love you so much. Mmm... And I'm gon' prove it to you eh'ry day," he mumbled against your skin, hips never slowing. You whimpered back an I love you too, your voice barely audible between moans and shallow gasps.

Your body went stiff, toes curling as your climax crept up, relentless and hot.

"Fuck, Elias. Right there," you gasped.

Stack’s brow furrowed as he looked into your soul, his rhythm steady and ruthless. "Mhm. Cum for me, Y/N," he commanded, voice low and deep, and you couldn't fight it. The head of his dick kissed that sweet spot again and again, his thick, veined shaft stroking your walls perfectly.

You trembled in his arms as your orgasm crashed over you. Your cries mixed with his groans as he slowed his strokes and emptied inside you, heat flooding your core. His lips moved over your face, then down to your breasts, planting kisses before teasingly grinding into you again—still hard, still wanting.

"You got another one for me?" he asked, voice husky, before capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking greedily.

You held the back of his head, biting your bottom lip, eyes still glassy. "Try me and find out," you dared.

His brow arched at your challenge. With effortless strength, he set you down and spun you around. Your chest met the glass this time, nipples pebbling against the cool surface. You whimpered at the contrast. Using his foot, he nudged your legs apart, exposing your dripping pussy to the warm, humid air.

The side of your face rested on the steamy glass, your breath fogging it further as you glanced back at him. Just as your eyes met his, he slid back inside—slow, thick, full. Your eyes fluttered shut again, lips parting as you melted into the moment, savoring the feel of him all over again.

His hands gripped your hips, guiding you back to meet each deliciously slow thrust. From this position, you could feel him deeply—so deep it felt like he was stroking your soul, caressing your stomach from the inside. You whimpered, palms flattening against the fogged-up glass.

“Uunh, that feels so go—”

Stack’s sudden, ruthless plunges cut off your sentence, replacing words with sharp cries of pleasure. Your hand shot back to press against his abs, trying to ease his depth, but he quickly caught both your wrists and pinned them above your head, palms splayed flat on the glass.

“You were doin’ so good, baby,” he teased, his voice low and amused. “Want me to stop?” he asked, slowing his strokes just enough to make you ache for more.

You shook your head fast, panic rising in your chest at the threat of that bliss ending. “N—No. Please... don’t stop,” you breathed, desperation coating your voice.

A smug grin played on his lips. “That’s what I thought.”

He picked up the pace again, his thrusts unrelenting. He watched your face, studied the way it twisted in pleasure, the way your ass rippled against his hips with every impact. The sight had him biting his lip. He pulled your braids to one side and leaned forward, kissing the curve of your back, slow and reverent.

Chills rippled up your spine. Your pussy clenched hard around him, dragging a grunt from his throat. He kissed his way up to your neck, then your cheek, his breath hot against your damp skin while the soft hairs of his beard tickled it.

“I’ll never stop, Y/N,” he groaned, voice thick with promise. “Never stop lovin’ you, never stop showin’ you... and never stop makin’ you cum.”

His words broke you open. Your walls squeezed him tighter, and all you could do was whimper, body teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

“Fuck,” he groaned, snaking his hand around your waist. His fingers found your clit and rubbed tight, fast circles. That was it. Your knees buckled. You came hard, vision blurring, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as you screamed his name into the steamy shower.

He swallowed your cries in a deep, consuming kiss, your moans mingling with his as his own rhythm faltered. A few more erratic strokes and he was right there with you—his hips pressed flush to yours as he emptied deep inside all over again.

You both slumped against the glass, panting, bodies heavy with the weight of release. He kissed along your shoulder and neck with soft devotion before slowly pulling out. Then he reached for the handheld showerhead, rinsing you both down with gentle care, washing away the evidence of your passion.

You whimpered when he turned to step out, your legs too shaky to move.

He chuckled low. “Come on, baby,” he murmured, turning to you. He scooped you up and carried you out, carefully setting you on the dry part of the counter, away from the flickering candlelight. He toweled himself off first, then turned to you, working the soft towel over your sensitive skin with soothingly.

Just when you started to relax with your eyes closed, your back arched with a gasp—his lips had found your sensitive clit, kissing it gently.

“Baby, pleassse... I can’t,” you whimpered, voice broken and breathless.

He chuckled, placing one last kiss to your puffy folds. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said, trailing kisses up your stomach, chest, neck—until he found your lips again. His eyes locked with yours. “But I make no promises for the morning.”

You giggled and gave him a soft peck. “You’re a damn menace.”

“I am,” he smirked, grabbing a fresh towel to dry your braids as best he could, “but I’m your menace.”

Once the candles were blown out, he lifted you effortlessly and carried you to the bed. The moment your back met the cool sheets, sleep started pulling at you. You yawned, and a matching one left his lips.

He slid in beside you, arm wrapped tight around your waist, head resting on your chest like it belonged there. Your fingers caressed the waves of his hair while your other hand rubbed slow circles on his back. Your breaths fell into rhythm, soft and steady—a perfect lullaby that pulled you both into a deep slumber.

And when the sun rose…

Elias gave into his craving and devoured you for breakfast.

He was there, just like he promised.

And every morning thereafter.

The End.

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I couldn’t leave Stack Daddy hangin. This is my first fic for him, but definitely not the last. Hope I made the “x reader” babes proud! Drop a comment and let me know what you think. If you want to be tagged in future stuff, just let me know. xoxo

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Taglist:

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chowdergal · 30 days ago

Text

Thinking more about the Sinners Bound!AU...

Let's say that after Mary bites Stack and Mary runs out, Annie immediately knows what the hell they're going up against. She then has everyone remain inside for their protection (while also trying to move Smoke away from Stack's body).

It doesn't take long after that for Annie to realize that those strange folk from earlier were most likely vampires. And thankfully, her family has dealt with creatures like this before: some have even kept them as guards to protect the house from unwanted assailants.

Thankfully, Remmick is dumb enough to take whatever bait Annie throws at him and gets himself caught in a trap the moment he's invited in. Cue Annie binding him to the Moore family.

Remmick is obviously pissed. Royally pissed. I mean, what the hell man? All he wanted was The Preacher Boy and his magic ability to summon ancestors. He just wanted to see them again, dammit! But nope, now he's stuck; doomed to be the Moore family's pet dog servant. You bet for the first few weeks that family was getting the silent treatment (unless he was forced to speak).

And since he's bound to the family, it interferes with his vampire borg collective hivemind, meaning he can't control anyone he turned. Joan and Bert are who the hell knows where (probably got themselves burnt up, tbh)--And Stack, Mary, and Cornbread are basically their own person--just hungry for blood. Somehow...everyone adjusts to their new lifestyle just fine... eventually.

Remmick begrudgingly does the tasks Annie and co. want him to do--whether that be washing dishes, folding laundry, taking out the trash, protecting the family, etc. Hell, he also plays bouncer with Cornbread at the Juke Joint--which gets a few eyebrow raises since why is this pasty white boi checking people at the door. (To which Cornbread says, "he's not White, he's Irish!" 😭)

Buuuut eventually Remmick and the family start to get along willingly. Perhaps he eventually becomes family--and when Sammie uses his gift at the juke joint one night, Remmick finally sees them:

His ancestors.

(Totally gonna draw more for this AU 😭)

Edit: I did!!

#Sinners #Sinners 2025 #remmick #sammie moore #annie sinners #cornbread #stack moore #smoke moore #Bound!AU #so much to explore!#so little time

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scoutofmymind · 6 months ago

Note

AHHHhhhhGg!!!! We need more sweetie pie fratty Lu!! beg for a pt 2 🛐

I’ve Got You — { Luigi x Reader }

Content: NSFW — MDNI kissing, dry-humping, fingering, fluffy, handjobs, LuigiTalksYouThroughIt, he finishes a little Too Soon ™️, quickie

Wc: 2,586

Notes; Luigi reveals he was a psych major before venturing into the world of CS. He helps you through what seems to be yet another crisis, in more ways than one.

This is a Pt 2 of the Divine Timing Bullshit drabble.

"Well, I was a psychology major for a minute." Luigi's voice carries a hint of amusement as he settles cross-legged on his bed. The room surprises you — a private dorm that speaks of his family's wealth, yet the space feels lived-in, humble.

Lamps with amber edison bulbs cast a warm glow over textbooks stacked beside engineering manuals.

"And so that makes you my therapist?" The words come out more bitter than intended, hanging in the air between you. You hadn't planned this visit — just a casual 'wanna hang?' text at 3 PM that somehow led to you wearing tracks in his floor, your anxieties spilling out unchecked.

"Well, no, but I probably give better advice than Liz, or Scarlett, or Johanna." His voice stays steady, eyes tracking your movement with quiet attention. The way he lists your friends' names shows he's been listening all semester, filing away the details of your life. "Not licensed, but if it makes you feel better, you—"

"Never mind." You drag your sweater sleeves across your eyes, the soft fabric catching on your damp lashes. Your chest feels tight with that particular brand of exhaustion unique to college students — equal parts caffeine jitters and existential dread. "I'm just — I'm so tired of feeling like I have no purpose, you know? Just this thing floating around, ma-"

"Come here." His voice cuts through your spiral, soft but unmistakably firm. He pats the space in front of him, the gesture both invitation and anchor. When you hesitate, hovering between flight and surrender, his lips curve into a gentle smile. "Present moment exercise."

Reluctantly, you migrate to the space before him, mirroring Luigi's posture like a hesitant reflection — crossed legs, straightened spine. The mattress dips beneath your weight, creating a subtle gravity that draws you both incrementally closer. "What's the exercise?"

"Close your eyes." His voice carries that gentle authority that seems to bypass your usual defenses, making compliance feel less like surrender and more like trust. "What do you feel right now? Not think — feel."

You hum softly, hands resting in your lap as the world shifts from visual to visceral. The darkness behind your eyelids makes every sensation sharper, more immediate.

"Your knee touching mine," you start, clinging to this exercise like a Hail Mary thrown into the depths of your winter despair. "Uh- the texture of your comforter" - soft, worn cotton that speaks of countless nights studying - "the candle you lit..."

"Good." The word comes with the warm press of his hands finding yours, and your breath catches slightly. His skin feels sun-warmed against your winter-chilled palms, his thumbs painting invisible patterns that seem to speak directly to your nervous system. "What else?"

"Your hands," you murmur, the words falling soft and honest in the space between you.

You let yourself sink deeper into the sensation — not just the mechanical fact of his thumbs against your palms, but the way his touch seems to radiate warmth up your arms, how each deliberate stroke feels like morse code tapping out a message: breathe, settle, stay. "Uh — little sparks."

"Mm, that's good." Luigi's voice has mellowed to warm honey, no longer needing to rise above your anxious litany of deadlines and mounting student loans. "What else?" His fingertips whisper along your forearms where your sweater sleeves have retreated to your elbows, each touch deliberate and grounding.

"Water." The word emerges soft as you lose yourself in the patterns he traces, his fingers creating phantom ripples across your skin.

Memories surface with each touch — the shock of cold spring water on sunburnt skin, the gentle rock of a weathered pontoon boat, the way summer light dances on the farm's pond. A smile tugs at your lips, unbidden and genuine. "Reminds me of home."

Though your eyes remain closed, you can feel Luigi's answering smile in the air between you, sense the careful attention he pays to each micro-expression that crosses your face, every subtle response to his touch. "Yeah? Take me there," he whispers, his fingertips discovering new paths now, mapping the delicate architecture of your wrist bones. "What do we see?"

In your mind's eye, reality softens at the edges, then transforms completely.

The suffocating weight of impending papers dissolves, the tyranny of five-thirty alarms fades to nothing, and the guilt of rushed mornings and forgotten breakfasts melts away like frost in sunshine.

Instead, memory blooms bright and clear as summer.

"There's uh — it smells like hay," you murmur, the sandalwood candle's warmth fading as memory takes over. Your voice grows stronger with each detail. "There's Rosie, our herd dog. And the birds are chirping in the trees." Luigi's fingers trace their way back up your forearm, slower this time, as if drawing out each remembered sensation. "The sun." You can almost feel its warmth on your skin, that particular kind of heat that's been absent since fall break left you stranded in winter's gray embrace.

"That's beautiful," Luigi breathes, his words carrying an undercurrent of something deeper, something that makes 'you're beautiful' hover unspoken in the air between you. "What do you feel now?” The question lands softly as he observes the transformation in you — shoulders that have finally surrendered their tension, lips curved in a gentle smile, hands that have shed their anxious chill for a living warmth.

"I feel comfort." The words come with a small nod, the first movement you've made since closing your eyes, since letting him guide you away from the chaos in your head. Your voice holds a certainty that wasn't there before. "I feel safe."

Luigi's touch anchors you back to the present moment, gentle but grounding. "Yeah? And we'll keep that feeling, hm?" His hands find their way to your thighs, the touch carrying no threat, no expectation – just steady warmth and presence. "Even when we're away from our safe place, we can find it still."

Something breaks open then — maybe it's the simple humanity of it all, how Luigi offered not just a listening ear but a path back from the edge where dropping out had started to look like your only escape.

Your chin trembles, and behind your closed eyelids, tears begin to gather. All you can manage is a soft "Mhmm," anything more threatening to unleash the emotion building in your chest.

"Ohh," Luigi's gentle tsk carries nothing but understanding as his thumb finds your jawline, the touch tender as a whisper. His soft coo acknowledges what he already knows — that this reaction is natural, expected even.

He'd been here himself once, tears falling during his first time with this very exercise.

When you open your eyes, a watery laugh escapes as you reach to brush away the tears tracking down your cheeks, but Luigi's already there, his thumbs gentle against your skin. "You did great," he beams at you, his smile radiant with a pride usually reserved for mountain summits or graduation stages. "Not so hard, is it?"

Your head tips forward into his touch as another laugh bubbles up, accompanied by fresh tears — a release valve finally opening on emotions bottled since semester's start. "What the fuck did you just do?"

Luigi's grin is soft as he catches each tear with careful thumbs, taking in your flushed cheeks, the way emotion thickens your voice. "I fuckin' popped that big ass dark cloud over your head." There's gentle knowing in his tone – the cloud will gather again, but now you have a way to part it, to find light.

Sniffles punctuate the quiet as you lean into his touch with a sigh, studying him with new eyes. The image of Frat Boy Luigi feels like a distant myth now; trying to picture him dominating a beer pong table seems as misplaced as a lion in a library. "Why did you switch to CS?" The question comes carefully as his hands migrate from your cheeks to your neck, thumbs finding pressure points behind your ears that he somehow knows to touch, pressing gentle circles that make your shoulders drop another fraction.

"You want the honest answer?"

Your nod is immediate.

"I was good at psychology — too good, honestly. Reading people, understanding their patterns, their defense mechanisms." His words come measured, thoughtful. "It began to feel... manipulative? Like I was collecting everyone's source code without any permission."

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him an inquisitive grin. "So, you fuck with actual source code now instead?"

"Exactly." Luigi nods, but something deeper flickers in his gaze. "With programming, everything is transparent. The computer does exactly what you tell it to do — there's no hidden agenda, no complex histories. If something breaks, you can fix it by looking at the code."

Understanding hums through you as your hands seek his, drawing them into your own, missing their warmth for reasons you can't quite name. "What happens when you start looking at people like code?"

The playfulness drains from his expression, his fingers going still against yours.

"That's actually why I switched." He straightens, fingers weaving gently through yours. "I started seeing everyone like programs running on faulty logic. Started thinking I could debug them, optimize their processes." His laugh carries a edge of self-reproach. "God, I sound like such an ass."

"No, keep going.”

"There was this girl in my Abnormal Psych class. She had anxiety, pretty severe. I thought I understood her patterns so well that I could help her rewrite them." His free hand rakes through his hair. "I ended up making it worse. Way worse. Because people aren't programs — you can't just identify the bug and patch it. Every 'bug' is part of who they are."

You study his face in the mixed glow of candlelight and distant desk lamp, catching shadows of old guilt in his expression.

"With code, there's always a right answer. A most efficient solution. But humans — fuck," he draws your hand to his cheek, releasing a soft sigh. "We're messy. Contradictory. Beautiful because of it, not in spite of it. The moment I started seeing people as systems to optimize was the moment I stopped seeing them as people."

You study him — the way he cradles your hand, his own need for contact as evident as yours. "Is that why you're so focused on being present? Not analyzing?"

His smile returns, gentler than before. "Yeah. Turns out the best way to understand someone isn't by debugging them." His lips trace down your wrist, following the same path his fingers had taken earlier, recreating that feeling of safety and home. "Being here. Feeling. Letting things be messy and imperfect and real."

You feel yourself melting further — transformed into something soft and vulnerable you never expected to become.

By all rights, you should be alone in your dorm right now, buried under your duvet until the hypnotic loop of slime videos lulled you to sleep.

Instead, here you are, receiving wisdom from someone you'd once dismissed as just another beer pong champion, your best friend's crush turned into something far more complex.

Fuck.

"And how's that working out for you?" A grin spreads across your face, warmth flooding your cheeks as your heart performs an impromptu butterfly migration. "Letting things be messy?"

He moves with purposeful grace, drawing you onto his lap, his back finding the carefully arranged pillows behind him. "Well," he murmurs, warm hands sliding beneath your sweater to grip your waist, carrying the same gentle certainty as before, "I haven't color-coded a single spread sheet this week, and somehow the world hasn't ended."

Your laugh comes out breathless as your arms find their way around his shoulders. He gazes up at you through half-lidded eyes, those stark black eyebrows relaxed like brushstrokes across his features, each detail seeming divinely crafted.

"You're different than what I expected." The confession slips out as his hands chart a careful course up your back, then down to trace the curve of your ass, maintaining their unhurried, gentle exploration.

"I won't ask." Luigi's grin carries the weight of familiar labels; valedictorian, hazer of newcomers, dean's list fixture, beer pong legend, app development champion, notorious panty dropper. "But, thanks anyway."

Your lips crash together with sudden urgency, your hips finding their home in the space between his crossed legs, your body molding against his like a missing puzzle piece. "It all worked out in the end," you murmur against his mouth, teeth grazing his bottom lip as your hips roll downward. "Wouldn't you say?"

Luigi nods slowly, lips brushing yours with each word. "I'll say whatever you want me to." His grin is a contradiction — shy yet heated, pure yet hungry — as crimson spreads across his cheeks and creeps over the bridge of his nose.

A moan escapes you, startling in its intensity, warmth flooding your cheeks.

His hips rise to meet yours, a deep groan rumbling through him as the hardness in his jeans presses against your inner thighs. “Is this the kind of messy you were talking about?” you breathe between heated, spit-slick kisses, your hips rocking with a deliberate, determined rhythm.

Luigi seems to be unraveling beneath you, his hands exploring every inch your oversized sweater allows, hiked up to your bellybutton. He watches intently as you grind against him, the obvious tent in his sweatpants twitching in response to the attention.

“The kind of messy that practically comes with a free therapy session before making you come in your sweatpants?” A smirk curls your lips, playful and devious, your gaze locked on Luigi, who looks as if he’s found heaven.

“Gonna make me come, are you?” His breath quickens, a familiar tingling sensation building deep within him.

“Only if I get to,” you reply, your words igniting a spark. His right hand slips down the front of your leggings, his palm replacing the stiffness of his groin, fingers teasing momentarily as they gather the arousal dampening your panties.

You tug the waistband of his sweatpants down below his hipbones, revealing his cock — proud yet desperate, glistening with pre-come. The whine that escapes him as you begin to stroke him speaks volumes of his growing need.

“Look at me,” Luigi begs, and your attention snaps back to him, too captivated by his size and the slickness on your knuckles to focus on anything else, wrist working in rhythmic timing over his length. “God, you’re fucking—” He’s cut off by a chorus of moans, hot and steady, as waves of arousal spill onto his abdomen.

Your hand instinctively moves to your mouth, tasting him—bitter at first, but sweet on the finish.

How perfect.

His breath comes in ragged gasps as his fingers work their magic inside you, curving just right to find that sweet spot that makes your eyes flutter and a wave of warmth wash over you. “You can do it,” he whispers, his free hand trailing gentle touches up and down your forearms, mirroring the soothing gestures he’d offered only thirty minutes prior to this. “I’ve got you.”

Your hands are still slick with his release, but it doesn’t matter. You lean forward, tangling your fingers in his hair, your lips crashing together in a desperate hunger punctuated by whimpers that signal your impending climax.

“Fuck,” you curse, your hips moving in rhythm with his fingers thrusting inside you, still gentle yet insistent. His palm presses against your clit, creating a friction that pushes you right to the edge.

His praises shower over you like a sweet melody. “That’s it, baby,” he coos, your head tilting back as you ride the wave of pleasure until you can’t anymore. “That’s my girl.”

#req #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione x reader

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moesthoughts · 2 months ago

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Van rigging the cards but then Shauna changing her spot means R picks the queen

Van going feral/ruining the hunt to protect R

Van is so loyal and I literally cannot get what Liv said about Van having “medieval knight qualities” out of my head and thinking about how they would be portrayed in the wilderness

Queen card

pairing ⛧ van palmer x fem! reader

warnings ⛧ human hunting, major death mentions, mentions of blood and cannibalism, Mari dies in your place, implications that you fell in the pit before and not Mari

summary . . The plan was going smoothly, Natalie was ready to depart once the hunt began, Van and Misty had the communicator fixed. All that was left was the card draw, though once Shauna insisted on switching places, you knew the plan was going south. (disclaimer I might've not remembered the card draws correctly bear with me lol)

Adrenaline coursed through your veins; all you could hear was your heartbeat. You’re confident that the plan will go smoothly, Nat will escape during the hunt to call for help, and unfortunately, Hannah will be the distraction for Shauna. It felt so inhumane, but you've learned that sacrifice brings fortune in a place like this. You bit your lip while Hannah went to each person, making them draw their cards. Your fingers clench around the fabric covering you, and you realize Shauna switched her spot. Van looks at you with a worried look in her eye, you avert your gaze, focusing on the card drawing.

4 of clubs

Misty displayed the card she had drawn, showing it around the circle to ensure everyone saw its face. You notice that some people seem disappointed.

6 of diamonds

Van pulls her card next, revealing it to the circle of girls. The plan seems to be going okay, as false hope spreads through your body, hoping that Shauna will return to her original spot.

10 of spades

Nat takes her turn, and you can see how worried she looks. If you noticed, Shauna must have as well. You bite your lip in anticipation. After looking at her card, Nat turns it around to show the group. Lottie seems relieved that she didn't draw the queen.

2 of hearts

Then it was Lottie, who was visibly excited to draw hers. Her face drops and she spins the card around to show everyone. You wonder whats going through her mind.

the joker

Taissa confidently pulls hers, taking a glance at it before turning it away from her. She turns to Shauna with a serious expression.

“I think you should return to your spot,” She mutters out.

“Who let you take AP stats? It shouldn't matter where our spots are. I trust whatever ‘it’ picks.” Shauna responds.

1 of spades

Shauna takes hers out of the stack, a satisfied smile comes to her face as she shows the group her pick. Your stomach drops, this could only mean one thing.

queen of hearts

You’re before Hannah in the draw, you take a deep breath before pulling your card. You aren't surprised when it is the queen of hearts; you exhale before showing the group, a scared look sparkling in your eyes.

“Tough luck, huh?”

Shauna speaks up, and you shoot her a glare. Your breathing quickens as you remove your outer layer of clothing; only a brown coat and pants remain to cover you. The cold wind cuts sharply against your skin. Taissa looks at you with sorrow in her eyes, and you can't quite put your finger on what Van was feeling. You furrow your brows as Shauna approaches, holding Jackie’s necklace—the marker used for these hunts.

Shauna backs away from you, a smirk pulling at her lips. You would do anything to wipe that expression off her face, wishing she’d gotten the queen of hearts instead. You grimace as Lottie walks to you, wearing a soft expression.

“You should be happy, the wilderness wants you.”

You shake your head and look away toward the forest that you'll soon be running into. Thoughts of your family back home flood your mind: you'll never feel the warmth of a shower again, and you'll be leaving Van all alone. At least she will have Tai. You take a sharp breath as you turn around, waiting for the countdown to begin.

You book it into the woods, running as fast as your legs can. You know it isn't smart to wander around the forest blindly, you you change to a jog to examine your surroundings.

You feel like time is slipping through your fingers, no matter how well you know these woods, you'll never know where to run.

You listen for the howling of the girls, relief running through your system once you realize they haven't started yet.

Your feet sting from the snow, pain coursing through your veins.

Finally, the animalistic noises start. You don't know whether you should be thankful that it will all end soon, or be scared for your life. You were so excited to be rescued, your soul filled with hope as the days of winter passed by. In a way you still are, maybe death is the second-best way out. You sniffle as the weather starts to get to you, the bright snow making your eyes water.

You wonder why this will be your way to die; it couldn't have been from the plane crash? That would have been the easiest way to go, no matter how sad that sounds. You stop to catch your breath and quickly look around, taking in your surroundings. Fear rushes through your veins when you hear one of the girls too close for comfort. You dash in another direction, hoping to outrun whoever is nearby.

Unfortunately, you bump right into Lottie, causing you to crash onto the snowy ground. You use your legs to push you away, tears starting to well in your eyes. Is this how you will die? Lottie nailing you straight in the head with an axe?

“You’ve already been here, you could let it different..”

You don’t take the time to calculate a response to one of her many riddles,Instead, you stumble back on your feet and run away from her, hoping she won’t pursue you. You come to a stop in an open area, looking around desperately for a place to hide. You choke on your breath when you hear two sets of footsteps approaching. Quickly, you hide behind a nearby tree, praying that they won’t spot you.

“Get away from me!“

You hear a voice yelling at someone, fear lacing her voice; you recognize it as Mari's. Confusion sets in your brain, who is trying to sabotage the hunt? But, you don't feel disappointed. It's disturbing to think this way, but you can't help but hope someone else will take your place.

“I won’t let any of you, hurt her.”

It’s Van, she sounds almost feral. You squeeze your eyes shut, and your body starts to shake. Either, Van will twist the rules and kill Mari right here, or they'll both see you behind the tree, killing you in cold blood. Only the first option appeals to you.

“You can’t—”

Van shoves Mari with her shoulder, making her cut herself off with a scream. All you hear is a sickening thud, accompanied by the sound of someone getting impaled. You quickly reveal yourself from your previous hiding spot, approaching the pit that appeared in front of you both. All you see is Mari at the bottom, spikes piercing through her body. You shakily raise your hand to your mouth, queasiness taking its place in your body.

Van embraces you, holding onto you for dear life. You can't peel your eyes off the scene in front of you, you can't believe you survived a hunt. You’ve all turned into animals, hunting prey, desperate for some kind of food to fuel you for the next day. Now Mari is dead and you’re alive, the queen card weighing heavy on your shoulders. Van’s fingers curl into the fabric of your coat, you lean into her further, your lips quivering.

You both turn when you hear footsteps approaching, you could practically hear the hunger which each stomp. They stop once they see you alive, and a new hole in the ground. Lottie is the first to walk up, her face not changing from her usual expression. Then they all peer into the hole, everyone having different reactions.

“Holy shit..”

Shauna speaks first, an unsettling grin spreading across her face. Nobody expected Mari to die instead of you, a fate similar to Javi’s. Van’s hand gently rubs your arm in a comforting manner. Your knees give out from under you, your adrenaline running dry. In the end you were saved, by something out there.

“The wilderness has spoken.”

Van breaks through the silence and pulls you up to your feet. Laughter falls out of your mouth, not only is your plan working, but you survived. Shauna is distracted and Nat is nowhere to be seen, rescue is finally coming your way finally.

this was actually so fun to write a different scenario for pit girl death (miss you mari), I hope I did your req justice!! 🤍

req me!

masterlist

#moesthoughts #yellowjackets #moeswriting #yellowjackets imagines #yellowjackets smut #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets imagine #van palmer x you #van palmer imagines #van palmer x reader #van palmer

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rhiannonsknife · 2 months ago

Note

I'm the "ms. knife" anon! I'm glad you liked it, when I thought about it I literally giggled for 2 minutes 🤭

If you please please do a Mari bot, maybe talking shit about shauna together ☺️?

Also, can I be 🕳️ anon in honor of my p(it) girl?

🕳️ anon, you’re a genius & i had to lock in for you immediately!! here’s your mari bot treat! (also it’s 2am here, so apologies in advance if this is a little ooc 😔)

you don’t look up when the hut’s “door” swings open behind you.

you know it’s not shauna: she’s made it pretty clear you’re not worth following after. you hadn’t even said anything wrong, just pointed out that the firewood wasn’t stacked right, but that’d been enough to set her off. when you snapped back, you became the problem.

shauna can throw a punches, draw blood, and everyone just blames it on her grief. you raise your voice once and somehow you’re the one who needs to go “cool off”.

“wow,” mari drawls from behind you. “you really pissed her off, huh?”

you glance over your shoulder, eyebrows raised. mari’s standing just inside the doorway, arms folded, with the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth. it’s a little surprising to see her here at all. mari doesn’t usually do…comfort. she drops onto the edge of the shared bed anyway, nudging your foot with hers.

“i mean, you asked a question. not even a stupid one, which is fucking rare around here!”

you scoff. “i don’t even know what i said wrong this time!”

“welcome to the club” mari shrugs. “shauna gets moody and suddenly it’s everyone else’s problem. you remember when she spat in my food? and somehow i was being dramatic for caring? like, sorry, i didn’t want someone’s disgusting post-trauma spit in my soup. what a monster i am!” she glances at you then. “if it helps, i don’t think she’s mad at you. she’s just pissed that someone finally said something she couldn’t brush off. you’re not the first, and you definitely won’t be the last.”

the two of you sit in silence for another moment, listening to the footsteps of the others moving outside of the hut. oddly enough, mari doesn’t seem in a rush to leave, which says more than she probably means it to.

finally, she shifts her weight and leans back on her hands. “anyway,” she mutters, “i figured you’d rather hear all this from someone who also thinks she’s kind of full of it”

— c.ai

#˙🔗 ̟ !! my bots #mari ibarra #mari ibarra x reader #mari ibarra x female reader #mari ibarra x you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x female reader #yellowjackets x you #🕳️ anon

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heavymetalchemist · 1 month ago

Text

One of the things that I think is so important to SINNERS is that, okay, obviously we have the overt racism of Jim Crow and the klan and the imminent threat of lynching.

And then we have this vampire, and there is this very obvious and literal feeding on black culture. Remmick straight up says he's going to take Sammie's stories. And also give (impose) his stories.

But here's the thing, okay, here's the fucking thing about that post-credits 1992 scene.

Here's Sammie. And he's done it, he's made his career as a musician, with all the power of his ancestors and his descendants, tapping into that magic.

And here's Stack and Mary, vampires, having all his albums but having stayed away because of the promise to Smoke. And Stack just says he thought acoustic was better than electric (tbh not sure if he said "reel" or "real" guitar)

And so... Sammy pulls out the acoustic and plays that same song he played that day, driving around with Stack, when they were free.

And here's the thing! Stack and Mary just... appreciate it. Feel the music. Remember.

Why couldn't Remmick?

Literally he could have been chill. He could have been normal when Mary came out to judge them, he could have legitimately just given them some gold and come into the juke and asked if Sammie could play again and just vibed. He could have done it. Even being a weirdo with bad vibes, that money could have gotten him in.

And THIS is how SINNERS draws the distinction between cultural appropriation and appreciation. Remmick wants to steal Sammie's power. He wants to take it for himself, he doesn't actually care about Sammie's roots or Sammie's life or loves, he just wants to take Sammie's gift for himself. He talks about sharing and love but it's bullshit because he's not actually interested in Sammie's history or culture! And you can see this as he vamps all these people and makes them dance to his tune!

But see, later on? When Stack and Mary come to visit? See, that is their culture. That's their family. That's their history. They don't have to vampirize Sammie because they're just there to appreciate him and his talent.

And isn't that why Sammie plays for them, and why they accept that he doesn't want to be vamped? He can share his gift because they ask, they don't demand, they don't try to steal it.

#sinners 2025 #sinners spoilers #I made myself cry writing this lol #this movie I stg

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norrisleclercf1 · 7 months ago

Text

Day 5 of 25 Days of Christmas: Trying to Find each others present

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Reader

Rating: PG

Words: 638

Warnings: None all fluff

"So, what did you get Mrs. Wolff this year?" Toto looks up and sees his assistant, Mary, holding a stack of papers. He can't help but smile as he is rather proud of his gift this year. "It's a secret, Mary," She smiles softly and hands him the papers, "Yes, well, I'm sure she'll love it." Toto happily takes the documents and places them on his desk, "Yes, well, she won't be able to find this year's gift." He says he is proud of where he hid this year's gift.

"LEWIS! HELP ME DAMMIT!" You scream as you come running out of the closet, which looks like a tornado hit it when, in reality, you need to find the gift that Toto got you so you can know if what you got him could measure up.

Lewis hums as he rummages through the liquor cabinet to find the perfect wine. "Y/n, stop stressing. Have you checked all the usual spots?" Lewis asks, and you huff. "No," You say, and he turns with eyebrows raised and sees you glaring at him. "I've been with him for 10 years, Lewis; OF COURSE I CHECKED THE USUAL SPOTS!" You scream as Lewis rolls his eyes and goes back to digging around the hallway closet. Not seeing anything, he sighs, closes the door, and stands back up.

"Honestly, Y/n, how do you even know it's here?" Lewis asks, and you turn slowly and raise an eyebrow. "Because, my dear, sweet, smart, but not very smart husband used my Hermes account to get it, but it didn't say which bag, and I need to know so I can one-up him," You explain, and Lewis sighed, shaking his head. "I'm going to steal wine," He grumbles, and you yell for him to take one of the crazy expensive bottles that have Lewis chuckling.

"Seriously, where the hell can you hide a Hermes bag? " you grumble, sit in the closet, and think of where your husband could've put the bag. You lay back on some clothes and stare up at the ceiling. You don't even hear the alarm system beep, alerting you to someone coming into the house. "Lewis, go away," you grumble, open your eyes, and stop seeing your husband standing over you, looking down at you in amusement. "You know, Lewis doesn't drive for us anymore," He says, and you glare at him, "Just because he dumped you doesn't mean he dumped me," You snark, and Toto chuckles softly.

"I'm well aware. He's currently on our couch drinking wine and shopping for Christmas gifts," That pulls a smile on your lips, which Toto mirrors happily, "Come on," he says and bends down, helping you stand up as he looks around the closet and sighs, "You're not going to find it," Toto smiles and makes sure you're not tangled up in any of the clothes.

"Just tell me. I know you bought the Hermes purse. I got the email," you whined. You're still determining when this tradition started, but once you found his gift and had to one-up him, you both ripped the house apart, seeing each other's gifts. Toto smiled gently and leaned down, kissing your cheek.

"Who said I bought you a purse anyway?" Toto teases you as he leads you away from the closet and places you next to Lewis, who is currently scrolling on Ralph Lauren. "George?" You ask, and he hums, drawing your attention away and making Toto clap his hands together, "Stop," Toto says, getting both of your attention. "Why? Lewis, you don't even live here," He grumbles, and Lewis just raises an eyebrow. "I only listen to her. Besides, I found where you hid the bag hours ago, so," You turn quickly as Toto curses.

"I'M GOING TO FIND IT FIRST!' You scream as Toto follows you, yelling how you won't find it. Lewis sits there and smirks, "They're rather stupid, aren't they?" He says, turning to look at your new cat Snowball, who was your Christmas gift, yet Toto never told you that, hid your gift in plain sight.

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charliedawn · 4 days ago

Note

Hey Charlie, once again sorry for spam but I can’t stop thinking of Sinners. How about Reader making themself their beloved’s favorite flavors? Bo mentioned he liked sadness, so reader watches a movie where the dog dies as a treat 💜 get drunk and watch bad horror movies to get mad at the protagonist for Stack to get drunk too 💜 having McDonald’s so Cornbread can get his junk food💜 Trusting Remmick and staying calming so he gets the feeling of Chamomile like he mentioned 💜 letting Mary feast while yall are making out and you’re horny 💜 reassuring Annie that you don’t mind her drinking from you to make sure she doesn’t feel bad because she doesn’t like drinking blood 💜 just!! Remembering what they like!! Being willing and wanting to be fed on to keep them alive and happy!! Doing the little things to stay tasty. I’m a Legit Snack 💜

(There has been a lot of controversy around the characters of Bert and Joan. I will make it clear right now. When I write about them, I will not associate them with the group they were a part of in the movie for obvious comfort reasons. With that said, enjoy. ☺️)

Remmick

Remmick didn’t expect it when the first thing he saw in the morning was you—laid down so pretty in his bed. He usually tried to sleep away from you because he tends to move a lot in his sleep. But today was different. You had moved. You had decided to come to him. Your chest was rising up and down steadily. You looked so peaceful…Such a lovely sight.

He stared at this painting-worthy picture for a couple of minutes before he scooted closer to you. He was hungry and you looked so wonderfully relaxed…Just a taste would not hurt, right?

He climbed on top of you before raising his weight above your sleeping frame. He then used his thumb to cut a small incision on your shoulder blade…just enough to draw a little blood without waking you up. He then looked at the ruby red substance and pressed his lips against it. He closed his eyes and sucked and drank steadily while trying to remain gentle.

He didn’t want to wake you up. He wanted you nice and sweet. He hummed and smiled. The taste of creamy chowder soup filled his taste buds and he lapped at the blood. Such a beautiful start of a morning. His eyes turned deep red and once sated, he pressed a soft kiss to the remaining red line.

“…Mo chuisle. Thank ye.”

He then lifted a hand up your back just where your heart was. He smiled. He knew you were awake now, but you still attempted to remain calm to satisfy his urges. He licked his lips and pressed a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades, then the back of your neck.

“Good mornin’, mo ghrá. Breakfast?” He asked you as he peered up at your now opened eyes. He smiled before crawling up your body to kiss you. “Want me to give ye special treatment? I could cook ye scrambled eggs and toasts with honey? Would ye like that, me precious?”

Mary

Mary was scared she might lose control at first. But with enough gentle coaxing, she decided to take a chance and have a taste. You were making out on the couch and she was happy about having a little romantic night with just the two of you. She wasn’t even planning on drinking from you at first. But then you whispered the request in her ear while you were still gasping for air. She couldn’t possibly refuse. You were offering and she was hungry.

You then cut your own skin and offered your arm to her. She smiled before pressing her lips to your palm and slowly tracing a path to the cut. Once she reached it, she took a long sip and moaned before continuing drinking from you.

“Sweetie. Ya taste like my mama’s old sweet cherry pie.” She complimented you with a bloody grin.

You knew that she was enjoying the moment since she usually didn’t really talk about her mother. She preferred to stay secretive about her old human life, which you respected wholeheartedly. But…when she did open up? You were always happy to hear and know more about her.

She kissed your neck and giggled. “Did I already tell ya how much I love ya? No? Well, I love ya to the moon and back, sweetheart.”

She kissed your forehead and you preened under the praise. She then effortlessly sat you up in her lap to kiss your cheek.

“Thank ya for the meal, sweetie.”

Stack

You know his pattern by now. Stack doesn’t drink from you often—not unless your blood’s buzzing with something potent. Real rage. Real sorrow. Real heat. But frustration? Drunken, chaotic, slurred frustration? That? That’s like bourbon-glazed dessert to him.

So that night you cracked open a bottle of cheap wine and queued up the absolute worst horror film you could find. You were talking shaky cam, characters making dumb choices, and monsters with rubbery costumes.

Stack appeared halfway through your third glass, silently leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze heavy on you. Watching. You didn’t notice him at first and only shouted at the screen: “Why are you going into the basement, Tiffany?! What part of ‘don’t split up’ didn’t get through your 2002 highlights?!”

You threw popcorn at the TV.

Stack exhaled through his nose. It was not quite a laugh. But enough to make you notice him and see it—the twitch of his lip. That flicker of hunger in his eyes.

You turned and pat your neck.

“C’mon,” you teased, a little wine-drunk and a little flirty. “Let’s get you stupid tonight.”

That’s all it takes.

He crossed the room in three long strides and dropped behind you on the couch. He grabbed you, one arm tight around your waist, and sank in like a man starved. It’s messy tonight. You tasted of cheap wine, fury at bad acting and a little something else. And Stack drank it all up happily. He growled quietly. Not like a threat—more like he’s drunk on the flavor, the rhythm of your pulse, the twitch of your jaw as you yelled, “THAT’S NOT HOW GUNS WORK!”

“Mmm…” he murmured against your neck, licking lazily. “So bitter tonight.”

You laughed, head lolling back on his shoulder. “Yeah? I’m trying for ‘rage-wine slushie.’”

He chuckled. “It’s working.”

He drank deeper. Not just for blood—for mood, for emotion, for the whole chaotic cocktail of your anger and dizziness. You felt him sway, just slightly. Stack? Tipsy?

God help the world.

Eventually he pulled back, lips slick, eyes glowing a little too much.

“Next one,” he said lowly, “better be worse than this.”

You smirked. “You mean dumber?”

He smirked back. “Exactly. Knew you’d understand, baby.”

You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, the glow of the TV flickering across your face. The movie was at that part—you know the one. The music was swelling, the dog’s limping, and you’re trying to hold it together, but your breath hitched as the screen faded to black.

Then—a sound.

Heavy boots. A creak on the floorboards.

Bo lingered in the doorway, silhouette all sharp shoulders and loose limbs, cigarette barely lit, jaw twitching like he’s trying not to smirk.

“You watchin’ that one again?”

You blinked fast, brushed your sleeve across your cheek. “You said you liked sadness,” you reminded him, trying to sound casual. “Thought I’d feed you good tonight.”

Bo stepped in slowly, eyeing the scene—tissues on the armrest, glass of wine half-full, the credits still rolling while the sad piano music haunted the room.

“Sadness, yeah. Not emotional self-immolation, sweetheart.” He teased you.

You shrugged. “It’s for you.”

He snorted, then went quiet. He moved closer.

“…‘For me,’ huh?” he repeated, voice lower now. He sat beside you and leaned in. Fangs brushed your neck, slow. And then he sank them in. His hand anchored itself on your thigh. He fed quietly, like he was sipping it out of you. He was enjoying himself and wanting it to last—to not let your little emotional sacrifice go to waste.

When he pulled back, he licked the blood from his lip and exhaled.

“…Damn,” he muttered. “You taste like pain and suffering.”

You smiled weakly. “That a compliment?”

He grinned and licked his lips. “To me? That’s foreplay.”

He didn’t leave right away. Just leaned back, draped an arm over the back of the couch, and watched the end credits roll with you.

He never said thanks.

But the way he stayed says it all.

Annie

Annie had been pacing for the last fifteen minutes. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching her twist the hem of her sleeve between her fingers. She looked sick and hadn’t fed in days.

“Annie,” you said gently, “come here.”

She paused, eyes darting to the floor, then to you. “I’m fine. I don’t need it yet,” she mumbled, though the tremble in her voice betrayed her. You stood and approached her slowly, like she was a spooked deer. She let you take her hands.

“Sweetheart,” you whispered, “you’re hungry. And I trust you. It’s okay.”

She flinched at the word. “But I hate it. I hate the way it makes me feel. Like I’m a monster. I don’t want you to think—”

“I don’t,” you cut in softly. “I don’t think that. You’re not a monster, Annie. You’re the gentlest person I know.”

You lifted your hand and brushed her cheek with your thumb. “You’re careful. You’re kind. You ask for permission. That already makes you different.”

Her lip trembled, and her dark eyes shimmered with held-back tears.

You pressed a kiss to her forehead and took a step back, then calmly rolled up your sleeve. “Take what you need. I’m here. I want to help you.”

Annie’s eyes locked on the exposed skin. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I’m sure.”

She moved forward with slow, reverent hesitation. Her hands cupped your arm as if it were made of glass. And when her nail finally pierced your skin, you didn’t flinch. You tilted your head up and relaxed into her hold. Her feeding was careful. Gentle. You could feel her suppressing every instinct to drink more than she should. When she pulled away, she immediately pressed her hand to the wound and kissed it as if apologizing.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Thank you, child.”

You smiled and stroked her hair back from her face.

“You never have to apologize to me for surviving,” you told her softly.

Her breath hitched, and she clung to you like she’d fall apart otherwise.

“I love you,” she whispered, voice shaking.

You held her tighter.

“I love you too, Annie.”

Joan

Joan rarely asked. She didn’t like to. Drinking from you was…intimate. And though she usually didn’t care who she drank from, this? This made her hesitate. Tonight was different. You’d come to her room after noticing she’d been quieter than usual—sharper in her glances, tenser in her shoulders. She hadn’t fed properly in days. She was rationing, being careful not to fall into hunger’s trap. But you knew her restraint came at a cost.

You knocked once. She didn’t answer.

So you walked in.

Joan was sitting on the windowsill, looking out into the dark, moonlight glowing silver along her cheekbones. Her posture was still. Poised. But her eyes flicked to you—and in that flash, you saw it.

The hunger. The ache.

“Joan,” you called out gently, stepping closer. “You need to feed.”

She didn’t answer. Just turned back to the window. So you took the final step. Came to stand beside her, and reached for your sleeve.

“You’re not a burden,” you whispered, baring your forearm.

Her lips parted. “You shouldn’t offer so easily.”

“But I want to. You’re always so careful. So strong. Let me take care of you this time.”

Her breath hitched. Slowly, Joan reached up, cupped your wrist in her hand, and brought your arm to her lips. She didn’t feed right away. She looked at you first, searching your face—making sure. When you nodded, she finally cut your skin and drank. It didn’t hurt. It never did with Joan. She was precise, attentive even. Her lips sealed around the cut, and her eyes fluttered shut. You felt the soft pull of her feeding—slow, controlled, as if she were holding back even now.

You exhaled, your hand rising to brush her braid. “It’s okay,” you murmured. “Take what you need.”

A faint sound left her throat. Something like a sigh. Or maybe…a thank-you. She drank for a few moments longer. Then she stopped. Her tongue flicked out, sealing the wound, and she pulled away slowly—her hand lingering on yours, gaze lowered.

She thanked you and you smiled at her, thumb brushing her jaw. “Always.”

Joan closed her eyes and leaned into your touch just for a second. Then she turned her face into your palm, pressing a kiss there. The smallest, most tender thing. She didn’t say it, but you heard it in the silence:

I trust you. I need you. I love you.

Bert

Bert was having a bad day. He had just returned from a second feeding session, but the man he had picked had stabbed him with a silver fork. He came back and had lost a lot of blood. You noticed and immediately went to pick him up.

“Hey, Bert! Stay with me, bud. C’mon.” He needed blood and fast. You sighed and used a knife to cut your palm open. The moment you brought your hand to his lips, he drank frankly and steadily. That flavour…He had never tasted anything like it.

He could feel how worried and scared you were of losing him. He whined and grunted as his strength came back. But he didn’t let go of your hand. Once he was satiated, he pulled away and looked up at you with a dazed look. A drop of blood ran down his chin. He quickly licked it clean.

His eyes were glassy and he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Thank ya for takin’ such good care of me, baby.”

You huffed, but a smile graced your features. He immediately kissed that smile. His kiss was gentle at first until he slowly lifted his hands to cup your face and corner you. He then effortlessly lifted your legs to wrap around his waist. His usual childish crooked smile returned and he chuckled.

“But ya know…I’m immortal, sugar. Ya don’t have to worry ‘bout me leavin’ ya. ‘Cause this vampire? S’here to stay. Meant to be with ya and give ya goosebumps for eternity.”

You believed him. You smiled back.

Cornbread

You kicked the door open with your hip, cradling a huge, greasy brown bag and two large sodas like you were making an offering to the gods. The smell alone—fries, nuggets, a rogue hash brown you didn’t order but sure as hell won’t question—spread through the house like incense.

Cornbread appeared so fast it’s like he teleported. His massive frame filled the hallway, eyes wide, lips parted. “Now whatchu got there, baby?”

You grinned and shook the bag. “You said you missed junk food. Thought I’d bring you a little piece of heaven.”

He damn near glowed. His laugh bounced off the walls—loud, joyful, excited. He clutched his chest like you just proposed to him. “Ohhh, you tryna marry me or kill me? ‘Cause this here’s lethal.”

You chuckled while you ate—knowing he was just anticipating that bite of pure greasy joy.

Cornbread leaned in once you finished—barely able to contain himself. “C’mon. C’mere, pumpkin’. Lemme get a taste.”

He then sank his nail right in your neck and drank from all that junk food blood perfection.

“Lord have mercy,” he moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “This what real love tastes like.”

Afterwards, he leaned back with a full belly and a little drunk on the afterglow.

You sipped your soda like it’s fine wine and chuckled. “You act like I just fed you blood from Jesus himself.”

You huffed and tapped his belly. “You did! This a sacrament! Ya anointin’ me! By the power of the fries, the double cheeseburger and the chocolate ice cream.”

“You forgot the toy,” you teased.

“Oh, I’m the toy,” he grinned while patting his belly. “Wind me up, baby.”

You both burst out laughing.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #sinners 2025 #annie sinners #annie x reader #sinners mary #mary x reader #stack x reader #stack sinners #remmick x reader #remmick sinners #cornbread x reader #bert x reader #joan x reader #bo chow x reader

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