#bo sinclair blurb

[darkromanceenthusiast]

hi, darling! id like to request fem!reader giving bo a blowjob. hope youre doing well, take care of yourself!! <3

Pairing: Bo Sinclair x reader

Smut blurb

Contains: oral (m receiving), cock worship, praise, surprisingly fluffy, I hope this is good I just saw the request and started writing.

“What’re you doin’ down there?” Bo asks, his eyes glinting in the light as you settled between his legs on the carpet. He had a beer in his right hand and had been watching some rerun of something you didn't care about on the tv. Vincent was down in his basement and Lester was off probably doing god knows what to that pit of his, so you had Bo to yourself for the moment.

“Just thought since we had a moment alone, maybe I could show you some appreciation.” you mumbled as your fingers moved to the button of his jeans, he smirked widely and instantly sat his beer to the side, moving to help you. He was already starting to get hard from the thought of your pretty lips around his dick, those pretty eyes of yours staring up at him as he makes you gag on it.

“Fuckin’ hell, babe, you already got my mind wanderin’” he groans out as he lifts his hips and helps you slip his jeans down, his hand instinctively comes to stroke his length, staring you down as he did.

“You gonna beg me like the slut you are?” that shit-eating grin on his face tells you he’s more than just enjoying it.

“Please, Bo, let me suck your dick?” you try and he shakes his head, cocking a brow.

“Pretty, pretty, please Bo? I really, really wanna suck you off… make you feel good… please?” you try and he tilts his head as if considering it.

“I reckon you're far too clothed to deserve it.” he says, his eyes trained on the swell of your breasts under your shirt, you feel your face flush with heat and you hook your fingers under the hem, tugging it over your head, freeing your breasts.

“Please?” you whisper and he nods leaning forward, his hand comes out and grips the hair at the base of your neck, pulling your head back as he presses a passionate kiss against your lips.

“Go on, Baby… you've earned it.” he says, pressing another chaste peck to your lips before sitting back, his arms come to rest on the back of the couch, his legs spread, and dick standing proudly erect. Its a fucking erotic sight. He looks so effortlessly, so simply attractive.

You lean forward on your knees and press soft kisses up his length, admiring the way it twitches and pulses from your attention, before you take him in your mouth causing him to let out a small hiss.

You swirled your tongue around the swollen tip of his dick, before you bob your head to take more of him with your tongue flat against the prominent vein on the underside. His hand finds your hair, tangling in it as his head falls back against the couch, his hat falling off and landing on the floor behind the couch.

“Fuck, you're so good at that.” he groans out, his hand gently gripping your hair and attempting to guide you at a slightly faster pace, you allow your jaw to go slack and focus on breathing through your nose as you allow him to use your mouth, you occasionally wiggle your tongue around him or hum.

After a while you can feel his thighs tensing and you bring a hand up to gently fondle his balls, to which he lets out deep groan.

“Keep that up and I'm gonna cum in this pretty mouth of yours.” Bo practically whines, your eyes meet his and he sucks a sharp breath through his teeth and closes his eyes.

“You look too pretty like that, fuck, I can't look at you or I’ll bust.” he says, you push yourself further up and try to relax your throat, you carefully bob your head a few more times before youre able to deep throat him.

“Jesus, I’m cumming.” he moans, pressing your head down, your nose touches his happy trail and you feel the salty, thick liquid coat your tongue. You pull back coughing and gagging and he sits dazed for a moment. When you're both finally composed he smirks at you.

“I’m gonna eat you out so good tonight, princess.” he says, leaning forward and pulling you into another kiss.

[slashed2death]

SLASHER/HORROR REQUESTS: OPEN

hey there! names vermillion and i write slasher x reader fics/headcanons, etc. openin up my requests here so i can write some more! would love to hear any and all ideas your heart desires. below the cut are who i write for and rules for requesting. if youre interested in a diff character not listed, feel free to ask if ill write for them anyway! i dont bite. happy requesting <3

who i write for...

WILL GRAHAM [HANNIBAL NBC]

HANNIBAL LECTER [HANNIBAL RISING, SOTC AND NBC]

CARRIE WHITE [CARRIE]

JENNIFER CHECK [JENNIFER'S BODY]

THOMAS HEWITT [TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE]

BUBBA SAWYER [TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE]

JASON VOORHEES [FRIDAY THE 13TH SERIES]

MICHAEL MYERS [HALLOWEEN - ORIGINAL & ROB ZOMBIE]

VINCENT SINCLAIR [HOUSE OF WAX]

BO SINCLAIR [HOUSE OF WAX]

LESTER SINCLAIR [HOUSE OF WAX]

BILLY LOOMIS [SCREAM]

STU MACHER [SCREAM]

DANNY JOHNSON / JED OLSEN [DBD]

CHARLES LEE RAY [CHUCKY]

TIFFANY VALENTINE [CHUCKY]

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE [THE BOY]

will do!

nsfw/most kinks

yandere/dark! slashers

headcanons / blurbs / oneshots

dark subjects (such as mental health concerns, ab/u/se, etc- i will NOT romanticize it. but i will write for victims of such- if im not comfortable i will let you know, but most things are on the table here.)

x reader content (obviously)

poly relationships

pretty much anything honestly.

wont do!

super unsanitary kinks (watersports and things of that nature.)

EXPLICIT noncon (will write dubious though)

ships only. this is a x reader blog.

ill likely add more to this later!

note...

please state whether you want reader to be male/female especially for nsfw works. if not stated i typically write for gender neutral readers. for nsfw, i write for both afab and amab folks! just specify please <3

please state whether you want headcanons, a oneshot, blurb, etc. otherwise ill revert to headcanons.

do not interact with this blog if you are not an adult! please and thank you. i am a grown dude- and my content is mature. i will block ageless/under 18 accounts.

do not interact if you are any form of bigoted; this is not a safe space for you. this is a queer/trans/poc friendly blog as i am all of the above.

i am particularly fond of yandere & hannibal nbc requests... mueheheheh

happy reading <3

[odocoiileus]

bo Sinclair x gn! reader blurb??👀

pairings: bo sinclair x gn! reader

warnings: illusions to murder + blood/gore, illusions to nsfw actions but none explicitly described, light angst, Bo and reader aren't in the healthiest of relationships, cursing

a/n: here you go anon!! sorry for such a delay in reqs, been very busy lately. this ended up a little longer than I expected. also, I made an AO3 account under the same username, feel free to follow me on there! I will be posting stuff soon

it's unbearably hot today – though that's commonplace for Louisiana. the air is sticky and damp, foreshadowing an incoming storm. you're not entirely sure when the storm will roll by, but you're thinking it won't be today. the sun shines brightly, hot as a flame. your clothes feel as though they're glued to you from how much you're sweating. from the spot where your perched, on the rickety old house's porch steps, you can see the dancing forms of heat waves. it warps your view of the rest of the town.

you let yourself fall back, splaying yourself across the porch. you close your eyes, lifting a hand to wipe some sweat from your forehead. it does little to help. you wish the storm would hurry and come, help lessen the heat. you can see it now – dancing in the cool rain. a blessing.

in the distance, you can hear the loud and familiar rumbling of Bo's shitty truck. there's a pop occasionally, the sound of the engine becoming louder, signaling that he was nearing the house. you let out a heavy sigh. maybe if I lay here like this, he'll think I'm dead, you think. at this point, you feel as though that would be the best thing to ever happen.

Bo had been in an exceptionally sour mood the last few days, you were growing sick of it. at first, you had simply thought it was because of a few wanderers that had entered the town of Ambrose. news flash – it wasn't. you'd done everything to try and cheer the sour man up; a piece of your body at one point. he was ungrateful.

even Vincent and Lester hadn't been in such sour moods. Vincent was always lurking in the basement, sculpting away and Lester — well, he was everywhere and nowhere at once. still, they'd at least treated you with kindness. now you know why neither of them got along with Bo very much, especially Vincent. he's a dick.

lost in your thoughts, you only open your eyes once you feel a boot nudging your rib. you let out a wince. did he not have a gentle bone in his body? you chew at the inside of your cheek.

"the hell you doin', layin' on the porch? y'look dead." Bo's voice rings out, thick southern accent drawing you in. you can vividly remember why you fell for him the first place. he was a southern sweetheart, once. your gaze travels from his dirty, dusty boots, traveling up his pants – landing on his face. his brows are furrowed in what seems confusion or frustration (you can't really tell).

"thinking." you answer flatly. your eyes drift from the Sinclair to the bright sky, hand raised to wipe more sweat away. Bo fails to provide any shade as he looms over you. "what exactly could you be thinkin' 'bout?" he asks, gruff. how does one explain that they're thinking about how much they despise the person they're dating? ..are you two even dating? it's a blurred line. you squint your eyes at the southern charm standing above you. you change the subject.

"any more tourists?" you ask, voice crackling with thirst and void of any actual curiosity. Bo narrows his eyes at you, placing his hands on his hips. he briefly lifts his head, looking off into the distance before he shakes his head. "no, and thank God for that. I don't need no more damn trouble. I'm already worn out havin' ta' deal with Vincent and Lester. you, too." he grumble, gaze falling back on you. you can't tell if he means it in a lighthearted way.

you roll onto your side, face twisting into at the feeling of sweat making your shirt stick to your back. you push yourself up. "Vincent don't cause any trouble, he stays to himself." you protest. Lester on the other hand, well, his hyperactivity can get a little tiresome. he's still kind though, means well..as someone that leads people to their death could be. Bo just rolls his eyes, waving his hand dismissively.

"come on, now. inside." he says, you almost feel like a dog being beckoned by its owner. perhaps you are one, with the way you stand up, dusting yourself off. with the way you follow him into the rickety house that you hate so much yet love.

god, you really despise him.

[astralcrtl]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚masterlist⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧

:➛ the lost boys 1987

paul - the last time i saw paul

marko - n/a

dwayne - n/a

david - blurbs. coming soon !

:➛ resident evil - games

lady dimitrescu - n/a

jill valentine - n/a

:➛ the texas chainsaw massacre 2003

thomas hewitt - n/a

:̗̀➛ house of wax 2005

bo sinclair - n/a

vincent sinclair - n/a

© astralcrtl 2025

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

so since it was so much fun doing this last year i decided i'm going to participate again. and although i know it's only august right now, i figured it'd be best to start early considering i'll be writing a fic for every day this time.

rules/info:

so obviously, this will be 18+ ONLY

i will be posting a short blurb every day in october with a different kink and character and you'll be able to find a list detailing the days and kinks below.

they will be written for an afab reader and i will try to keep it mostly gender neutral. i will specify in the fic warning if any pronouns are used.

i will be accepting requests but i will also be choosing some of the characters myself.

you can find my rules for requesting here and a list of characters that i write for here.

all posts for this event will be tagged under #kinktober 2023.

enjoy!

day one - knife play - baby firefly

day two - cockwarming - vincent sinclair for @sillylittlereader

day three - begging - gavin ellis (the mule)

day four - praise kink - brahms heelshire

day five - hate sex - damon salvatore

day six - dry-humping - steve harrington

day seven - wax play - vincent sinclair

day eight - predator/prey - otis driftwood

day nine - semi-public sex - klaus mikaelson

day ten - somnophilia - max (the resident)

day eleven - corruption - loki laufeyson

day twelve - mutual masturbation - lawrence gordon for anon

day thirteen - blood kink - vincent sinclair for @sillylittlereader

day fourteen - bondage - adam stanheight for anon

day fifteen - mirror sex - shane walsh

day sixteen - temperature play - negan

day seventeen - choking - david (saw 0.5) for anon

day eighteen - marking - kai parker

day nineteen - face fucking - mark hoffman for anon

day twenty - roleplay - dean winchester

day twenty-one - hair pulling - dean winchester for anon

day twenty-two - phone sex - adam stanheight for anon

day twenty-three - spanking - adam stanheight for anon

day twenty-four - gun play - stu macher & billy loomis for @nimbusghoul

day twenty-five - pegging - dean winchester for anon

day twenty-six - thigh riding - bo sinclair

day twenty-seven - dubcon - adam stanheight for anon

day twenty-eight - degradation kink - negan

day twenty-nine - oral sex - amanda young for anon

day thirty - overstimulation - peter strahm for anon

day thirty-one - threesome - billy loomis & stu macher for @sillylittlereader

[toxicanonymity]

Can u please make all the slashers force pregnancy like Bo Sinclair, Michael Myers, Stu and Billy, Freddy Krueger, and Ben Willis from the movie 'I know what you did last summer' please

Howdy, non 👋 The good news is, I just did this with Bo Sinclair. I'm unlikely to do the others, but hope you like Bo. Ty for asking 💚

The Wax Job (Bo). No hair waxing lol

✨✨✨ EDIT: These might not be quite as dead on, but I forgot I had this Breeder Michael blurb, and If you haven't read Virginal (MM) 🤌 by @consultingskeletondetective, you should.

[im-his-druidess]

So, I saw this post, right? An’ I was thinkin’, dang! That’s a mighty fine idea for a one-shot, I oughta give it a whirl. But then I realized I ain’t no creative soul, nor am I much of a writer, to be honest. So I was hopin’ maybe you could bring this one-shot to life for me. You don’t hafta, but I’d sure be grateful if ya did.

https://www.tumblr.com/theroosterfairytaler/764345983522013184/how-sweet-yet-regrettable-would-it-be-if-the?source=share

It's funny that you mention this because I've actually been kicking around an idea like this! Of course, more Vincent Sinclair Centered with splashes of Bo in probably a Hinge Poly type relationship

Also it would've been more of a full fic just to fit in the "backstory" of them all as kids/teenagers instead of a one-shot or blurb

So something like this is definitely in my head already 😘

[slasher-central]

Slashers That I Do Accept Asks For:

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Rob Zombie Michael Myers

Jason Voorhees

Brahams Heelshire

Harry Warden

Tom Hanniger

Yautja (My OCs)

Who and/or What I Will Write:

Blurbs

Gender Neutral Reader (Default)

Male Reader

Female Reader

Child or Teen Reader (strictly platonic)

Poly Relationships (Exclusively HoW and MBV)

Who and/or What I Will Not Write:

Characters or Fandoms that are not listed

Fandom Crossovers (ex: Halloween/Friday the 13th)

Slashers maiming or abusing the reader

Pregnant reader or Parent reader

Trans reader (I'd rather not risk accidentally insulting anybody)

Smut/NSFW (I'll let y'all know if my stance on this changes)

If you have any questions about your request, feel free to message me about it!

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Take Hold of Me: Eden and Bo Sinclair

Warnings: Mentions of abuse both physical and verbal

A/N: Made something cause I wanted to write more Eden. Also for some reason I had Little Women in my head so little blurb is based on Something’s are Meant to Be

Taggies: @rottent33th @soupbabe

“Ya know. Not even an hour after you and Lester were born. Vincent and I came into the office. Ma started talking to Vince, ‘bout how to hold Lester properly. Was ignorin’ me though. Probably because she didn’t want me touchin’ you or him. Anyway, Pa was too focused on Vince and Lester also, so I came up to you without askin’, put my finger in the crib and you held right onto it. I looked over at how Vincent was holdin’ Les. Did the exact same thing. You were so calm, you didn’t wiggle or make a noise. You just stared at me and smiled, continuing to hold onto my finger. I got excited. Told Ma and Pa, ‘Eden’s mine!’. Both of them were livid that I had held you without askin’ first. Pa took you from me, handed you to Mama and you started cryin’ and both of them blamed me for it. Pa beat the shit outta me. I didn’t care though cause I already called dibs on you and I promised I’d look over you no matter what Mama or Pa said.”

The night was cool with a small bit of humidity as Eden and Bo sat together on the porch. It was quiet before Bo started talking, only thing that could be heard were the mockingbirds and crickets singing in their nightly band.

“Guess sayin’ I hated mama my whole life isn’t being dramatic.” Eden comments, watching as lighting bugs flash softly close to the grass. Bo chuckles softly.

“No it ain’t.” He shakes his head and sips on his beer.

“Is that why you were always lookin’ out for me Bo? You called dibs on me and decided it was your life’s mission to make sure I ended up okay?” The blonde looks over at her brother, the porch light illuminating his skin. He shrugs nonchalantly making Eden frown.

“Yeah, I knew Vincent and Mama would be at the House of Wax all the time. She wouldn’t have time for you or Lester. And I knew Pa was always takin’ care of the older folks in town, not that he ever wanted to be ‘round his kids anyways.” Bo answers, he takes another sip of beer and looks over at his sister, she didn’t have a smile on her face, it was tight lipped look as she nodded, hearing every word Bo said to her. “I knew how different you’d be too. We’re one and the same. Shit I didn’t think anyone could throw bigger tantrums than me. You beat me the first time you didn’t wanna take off that dress Junibee Smith had put on you.”

Eden and Bo share a laugh reminiscing in the memory.

“Mama made me cry so hard from her spankin’ with that paddle and I still didn’t take it off… we’re too stubborn for our own good Bo.”

“We got every right to be with parents like ours. We understood that we deserved nice things too.” Bo gets up and chucks the glass bottle into the garbage can. It shatters as it hits the bottom of the can making Eden flinch slightly.

“Bo.”

His sister fumbles with her skirt and kicks a bit of dirt off of the deck.

“What.”

She takes a deep breath, nervous to even bring this subject up. “Why do we even bother with this town? I understand Vincent, but we didn’t do nothin’ but cause Mama problems and we hate her, don’t we? She hurt us.”

Bo is still facing away from his sister. His mouth twitches and he crosses his arms, slouching, hiding away from the conversation. Eden’s anxiety spikes and she stands up. She makes a quick decision beginning to head towards the door to go inside and forget about the night. “Neverm-“

“Cause maybe when we reach heaven… She’ll look at us and tell us how good we did. That she’s so proud and that she forgives us for behavin’ so badly when she was alive.” Bo’s tone changes. “We deserve to be loved by her. What better way to do it than by helpin’ her favorite, yeah?“

The two siblings face each other. Bo’s arms go down to his sides. He looks down and kicks his boot lightly. Eden steps closer to her brother, walking up to him like a scared and injured deer before wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. Bo hesitates, tensing up almost completely then he wraps his arms around his sister tightly.

“You really think we’ll be able to make it to Heaven? Even after all we’ve done?”

Bo brushes his little sister’s hair to comfort her and kisses her head. He looks at the night sky, the stars twinkling.

“Yeah, cause if Mama made it then, we will too.”

[slasherfantasy]

Blog Navigation for Slashers

To help me find fics I’ve reblogged, and to remind me of the tagging system I settled on! This post is for slasher characters from various horror movies.

Reblogged Writing

General

■ Slasher headcanons - for multiple slashers in a post, short blurbs about each, etc.

■ Slasher fic - for a full fic / oneshot / drabble about a single character or characters from the same franchise

Pairings - Tags to filter by a certain slasher x reader 

■ Thomas Hewitt x Reader

■ Bubba Sawyer x Reader

■ Michael Myers x Reader

■ Bo Sinclair x Reader

■ Vincent Sinclair x Reader

■ Lester Sinclair x Reader

■ Brahms Heelshire x Reader

■ Jason Voorhees x Reader

■ Asa Emory (The Collector) x Reader

■ Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) x Reader

■ Billy Lenz x Reader

■ Slashers x Reader (aka multiple slashers, as in headcanons, etc)

Characters - posts about the character that may or may not involve the reader

To Be Completed

[early20sfailingplenty]

I’m combining these asks because they work so perfectly together! I would say I’m feeling soft today buttttt I aaaaaalways feel soft, so that’s a redundant statement.🥺😂 Enjoy!❤️

Summary: Bo has a bad moment in the late evening & goes to your room. You coax him inside and together, you carve out a peaceful moment in a hellish life just for the two of you. If you don’t like soft Bo, I’d skip this one!🥰 ANGST, FLUFF, CANON COMPLIANT DARKNESS ETC. BO IS HIS OWN WARNING!!!!

You laid in bed, your eyes fixed upon the book you were reading. Blankets were curled around your middle, having fallen down from your shoulders and pooled around your lap. Your fingers were loosely curled around the worn pages of the book, so little attention were you paying to the words of a writer long since dead. You had previously been riveted by the work of fiction but the minute creaks in the worn floorboards just outside your bedroom door, which was closed but not locked due to the strict rules which Bo had you under even after all of this time, had sufficiently distracted you from your attempted escapism. Now reality was more important, more interesting, than the faraway place you cradled so reverently in your palms.

You had been in Ambrose long enough to know that the creaks you could hear outside were not natural sounds. The old, barely tolerated family house didn’t settle at night, so those noises weren’t floorboards springing back into place. No, someone was pacing outside your bedroom door and deliberately stepping on the places which didn’t make too much noise, and you had a pretty good hunch as to who it was and why.

Bo hated pity, and so you didn’t give it to him. You didn’t go and see if he was okay because it was clear that he wasn’t. You didn’t call out to him, not only because Vincent was just across the hall and you didn’t want to disturb him, but also because if you did, Bo would have a chance to bolt from outside your room and therefore give himself plausible deniability.

You simply stayed in bed, passively reading, and waited.

Bo, true to his character even in the midst of not understanding what he was going through, didn’t keep you waiting long.

There was a deliberate creak of the floorboard right outside your door, one which you had to hop over in order to not alert anyone to the fact that you were leaving your bedroom when you weren’t supposed to be, and you knew that he had put the full weight of himself down on that one foot. He didn’t have the courage to knock, but he had the courage to take up more space within his own home, the man of the house was he, until you had no choice but to take pity on him.

Not that you made it obvious in your feigned bored tone as you called out, “Yeah?”

You sensed Bo’s hesitation and you suppressed a sigh as you set the book aside, gathered the blankets back up around your shoulders, and sat up so that your back was supported by the headboard of the bed. “It’s okay, Bo, you can come in.”

The door cracked open and light spilled in from the hallway sliver by sliver until Bo could squeeze himself in through the gap he afforded himself, as if he didn’t want to admit even to himself that he was seeking comfort from you. So if he didn’t open the doorway the whole way, then it was something he could keep between himself, you, and the cloak of night… right? You allowed Bo such graces, so well did you know him that one glance and you could guess with startling accuracy what he was feeling and maybe even why, and you knew that he was here reluctantly, losing was he the war against himself. He said nothing to begin with, he just stood in the very outer edges of your bedroom, your sanctuary even from Ambrose, and you took a moment to take Bo in for all that he was.

His shoulders were curved inwards, as if the weight of the world was too much for him and he was trying to occupy as little space as possible, determined was he to hide even from himself and the reality of himself and his small world… which wasn’t a world at all, but a graveyard for the living more so than it was for the actually deceased. Bo’s beautiful icy blues were fixed on the floor, the carpet more interesting than you were. His wrists were tucked into his chest, fingers outstretched over the raw pink and red scars. Suddenly, without you moving or saying anything at all, Bo’s face wrinkled up, disgusted was he with his own blatant display of vulnerability, and his blue eyes, now full of all the sadness in the world, fell on your cosied up form on the bed.

And Bo.

Shattered.

But not in the way most people do. No, he shattered in terms of giving up his control, of giving up the ghost, and all that was left behind was the haunted shell of a man who had experienced a lifetime of trauma and depravation. His nose wrinkled up this time and you recognised the way he was trying to fend off the stinging of impending tears from the backs of his eyes and the back of his nose, for you did the very same thing when you felt like you were about to cry, and for the second time in almost as many minutes, you took pity on Bo and he didn’t even know about it.

“This bed is comfy and all,” You stretch with practised and easy casualness, and pat the mattress space beside you, “but it’d be better if you came over here so we could cuddle.”

Bo squinted at you, as if he had doubts about your intentions even when they couldn’t have been more plain if you tried, but then his shoulders slumped and every ounce of fight he had left was gone in an instant, and he could only stumble forward until his knees knocked into the edge of the mattress and he practically fell onto the bed beside you with a groan which spoke soon to be truths of the real weight and depth of his existential burden.

“Everythin’” Bo’s voice was muffled by the duvet you slept under, but you heard him well enough.

You invited him to talk as you carded your fingers through his hair, avoiding the long scar which stretched across the back of his scalp. “Everything what, honey?” You didn’t prod or pry, you simply extended olive branches with a soft smile and allowed him to decide if he did or didn’t want to take it.

“You.” Bo turned his face so that he could look up at you, a constellation of tears on his lashes. You bent down, down, hands moving up at the same time so that you could cup his damp face in your hands and press a tender kiss to his forehead.

“What about me?”

“Y’re my everythin’.”

Oh, but the smile you gave him in response made him feel like his heart was going to explode, and Bo realised that with you, he was safe from himself. Idly, he wondered what had come first - that realisation or his love for you, but then he decided he didn’t care enough to find out. You were everything he didn’t know he needed until you had quite literally fallen down at his feet one day, and in moments like this, he realised that it was the same for you.

Bo was never one for looking horses in the mouth - gifts with teeth were ones to avoid.

[urfavlovelyhotmess]

Lester, Vincent, Jason and Brahms are the type to be begging on their hands and knees with tears in their eyes to give their partner head. They’re obsessed with it, they do it for their own pleasure not for yours.

[visceravalentines]

What did you do for Easter, Meg? Oh you know, colored eggs and wrote sacrilegious porn, hbu? Couldn't stop thinking about the comments on this post so surprise whores here you go

Worship

Dilf!Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

Bo has a few sins to confess and in the process he commits a whole bunch of new ones.

2.5k words. Smut. Super blasphemy, like so bad, and lots of religious ideas and phrasing. Oral (fem!receiving) and PnV sex in a semi-public extremely inappropriate place w/ creampie at the end bc that's what we deserve. Soft Bo, almost sub Bo if you squint. Reader wears a dress & heels and uses she/her pronouns. Extensive liberties taken with confessional booth architecture and suit pants physics.

A note: this can be read as a non-chronological part of my ongoing dilf Bo series or as a standalone.

You haven't been in this church since you were a teenager. Your eyes wander up and over the stained glass, the soaring rafters. It's a beautiful building, stately, tranquil.

"Got somethin' I need to confess," Bo whispers with his lips against your ear. Goosebumps roll down your skin.

You shoot a sidelong glance down the pew at your parents, less than two feet away. They're holiday Catholics and the sermon has them rapt, like tourists watching a wild animal from the safety of their vehicle.

You incline your head subtly in Bo's direction and hold your breath so you don't miss his next words.

"I can't get you outta my head."

You exhale slowly and shift on the bench, careful not to set the ancient wood creaking. When you sneak a look at him, he's the picture of innocence, taking in the gospel like a man who doesn't need it. You clasp your hands on your lap.

Casually, like he's commenting on the father's delivery, Bo leans in again and murmurs, "Bet you'd let me touch you here, huh? Get my hands under that little skirt...."

You shiver and shift. The bench tattles on you and your mother sends a reprimand your way with her eyes. You tug the hem of your skirt towards your knees and try to channel a modicum of the faux virtue sitting to your left.

He quiets down and behaves himself for just long enough that the flame flickering in your center dies down to an almost-appropriate level, but the heat of his leg against your bare thigh keeps you from turning all your thoughts to God. The weight of his hand on the small of your back as he guides you out of the pew for Communion is a stitch past purity. The look he manages to slip you as the father places the wafer in his open mouth makes you feel like you need to get back in line for a second pass at contrition, and maybe this time you'll mean it.

His hand brushes across your ass as you scoot back into the pew and you think about obedience, how you hate to be told what to do but you'd drop to your knees for him right now, right here, if he'd promise to quell the simmer he's started between your legs.

The father is thanking those who helped prepare the picnic on the lawn outside and Bo props his arm on the back of the bench, leans close and lets his lips graze your skin, and whispers, "Meet me up there once everybody's outside." He gestures with a nod.

You look at him with wide eyes. "The confessional?" you hiss.

He winks at you.

You follow your parents out onto the green, but Bo doesn't follow you. In fact you lose him immediately in the crowd, can't help but search for him among the abundance of pastel dresses and khaki suits. You agree vapidly with everything your mother says about the mass, nod politely at all your dad's closest acquaintances.

You excuse yourself at the second or third possible opportunity, afraid of running into the father if you sneak back too soon. Your footsteps are deafening in the now silent sanctuary, your eager uncertainty echoing back at you like an accusation.

Bo is nowhere to be seen, but neither is the clergy, so you step lightly across the stone floor and approach the confessional booth. The penitent's bench is hardly private, hung with a red curtain that only conceals from the waist up. You duck instead into the priest's chamber and inch the door closed behind you, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding once you're safely out of sight.

The small space is dimly lit by a single bulb recessed in the ceiling and the fractured light coming in through the screen on the one side. There's a bench built into the back wall and furnished with a velvet cushion. You sit, adjusting your skirt, and think about guilt.

Abruptly the door flies open and Bo slips inside, closing it all the way behind him. He's appropriately debonair in a blue suit, white shirt, no tie. For a moment, he looks a touch harried, glancing over his shoulder to be sure the door is closed. But then he looks down at you, meets your gaze, and flashes you a grin.

"Well what do we have here?"

You move to stand and he shakes his head, fighting to shrug off his suit coat in the confined space. "Don't get up, darlin', you're perfect right there. Betcha this is the first time anyone with tits has sat in that seat."

You giggle, a touch nervous. He reaches his hand out for yours and brings your knuckles to his lips. His mustache prickles your skin.

"You enjoy the mass?"

You're not sure if he's serious. "...parts of it, yeah."

He smiles. "Which parts?"

You open your mouth for a sharp reply but your gaze is hung up on his lips and when he shifts his weight you become unbearably aware of how close his bulge is to your face.

Bo laughs low and squeezes your hand. "I myself had a hard time focusin' on the good word. Had my mind on...other things." He eyes you with something like mischief. "I was hopin' maybe you could help me...unburden myself."

The smell of him is slowly permeating the tiny space, overwriting the stuffy scent of incense and oiled wood with tobacco and aftershave. He barely fits, too tall, shoulders too broad. He could swallow you whole and you wish he would.

"Anything you want," you say softly.

Bracing himself against the walls, he sinks to his knees in front of you. The pattern of the screen is emblazoned on his face in light. The wood pops and creaks. You remember to breathe.

"I'm a sinner, darlin'." He gazes up at you through those lashes, smiling sheepishly, big hands curving around your calves. "Done too much wrong to confess. Can't even remember it all."

You touch his cheek, brush your thumb over the crow's feet at the corner of his eye. "Start small."

His hands slide down to your ankles and he works at the strap of your heels with ungainly fingers. "I been tellin' lies, baby." He slips off one shoe and starts on the other. "Your mama asked me if I've been seein' anyone and I said no." His thumb runs along the arch of your foot. "Your daddy asked me if I knew where you was the other night and I told him I didn't have a clue."

He wraps his fingers around your ankles and squeezes gently, and then pulls your legs open. You stifle a gasp, try to press your thighs together to maintain a smidgen of modesty.

Bo kisses your knees. His hands creep up the outside of your legs. "Been gamblin'. Riskin' my reputation, my livelihood."

"Why would you do that?" you whisper.

He grins against your skin. His fingers are sneaking beneath your skirt. "Well y'see, there's this girl...."

You bite your lip as he curls one finger around the waistband of your panties on either side and tugs them down your thighs.

"She ain't for me...but she's all I want. And that's another thing." He tucks your panties in his pocket and you pretend you don't notice. "I been plagued by lustful thoughts. Day and night I'm thinkin' about this girl, thinkin' about the sounds she makes...picturin' her underneath me...." He guides your knees apart, drags his mouth over your skin, lighting you up from the outside in. His shoulders are solid under your hands, a foundation to cling to.

"See, I know it's wrong, but whenever she's around me I just...forget myself. Start wonderin' what she's got on under her clothes, what I gotta do to get 'em off of her...." He nips at your flesh, one, two, three up your thigh, and you gasp each time. "Keeps me up at night wishin' she was in my bed." He pauses, looks at you with cocked eyebrows. "I think about her damn near every time I defile myself, which is...often."

You exhale slowly, release the death grip you have on his shirt and run your fingers through his hair. "Sounds like you've got a lot of penance to do."

Bo lets out a helpless chuckle. "I know it, baby. I'm desperate." He blinks up at you, looking earnest. "I'm hopin' you got some salvation to offer me."

"I might." You tug your skirt up, baring yourself to him, and he groans, fingers digging into your flesh. "But you've got to earn it."

He inches forward and pins your legs open on either side of his shoulders. "Never been much of a god-fearin' man," he says, "but I know how to worship." He bows his head and you close your eyes when you feel his breath on your skin. "What d'you know about devotion, angel?"

"Nothing," you say, breathless. "Teach me."

The first pass of his tongue is feather-light and devastating and you sigh as that flickering flame roils brightly back to life. He teases the edge of your entrance, warming you up with the heat of his attention. You make a small sound and he responds with a slow, insistent lick up the length of your slit that makes you whine and clutch at his hair.

He cradles your clit in the cup of his lips and venerates you with his tongue in lazy spirals, up and over, and your blood throbs in the same rhythm. He sucks gently, and then harder, and you moan in the bliss of transubstantiation as his mouth makes the mundane into the divine.

With a growl in the back of his throat he hoists your legs onto his shoulders and penetrates you with his tongue, lapping at your pussy in search of absolution. Your eyes bounce around the blank ceiling of the booth as your hips buck mindlessly against his chin. His mustache tickles your lips, beard coarse against your inner thighs.

"Bo," you gasp as he sucks hard at your clit, "oh, god."

"I'm a bad person, baby," he mumbles. "Promise."

"No." You try and fail to stifle a cry, back arching, toes curled. "You're so good...you're so good."

Between your gasps you hear the sound of footsteps on the stone. Your steady-building climax skids to a halt and you stare wide-eyed at the confessional door.

Bo doesn't stop. In fact, he redoubles his efforts.

You clamp your hand over your mouth, trying desperately to keep still even as your body flexes and writhes against your will. You can hear two voices--you recognize one as the father but the other could be anybody, some stranger, some sinner seeking Easter confession.

Bo seals his mouth over your cunt and grinds his tongue against your clit again and again, gripping your ass, holding you to him as you squirm and seek purchase on the featureless walls.

The voices are getting closer and against all odds, so is your release. You're past the point of redemption, couldn't stave it off if you wanted to.

"Bo," you squeak under your breath, clawing at the back of his neck, grasping the edge of the seat, "please--"

He grunts softly. He's devouring you, hellbent on a miracle, bound and determined to introduce you to God. And seconds later, when your cup runneth over and your spine arches against the velvet and you have to sink your teeth into the meat of your palm to keep from howling his name, you see starbursts of pastel pink and sky blue behind your eyes and figure this is probably the closest you'll get to the pearly gates.

Your breath is hitching in your chest and you feel him slip out of your hands and you whimper, floating back into your body, unsteady as you try to sit up straight on the bench. The voices and footsteps are fading and you breathe a sigh of relief and release.

His hands are on your arms and he's coaxing you to your feet, supporting your weight on behalf of your shaking legs, turning you around in the tight space and murmuring in your ear.

"Need you, baby, right now, c'mere. Need to be inside you. Let me--"

He takes your place on the bench. He's undone his belt, freed his cock from his pants, and you clamber eagerly into his lap and let him guide you down onto him. Your head lolls back as he pushes into you, fills your empty space. The image of him looking desperately up at you is burned into the back of your eyelids.

"Angel," he breathes as he takes your face in his hands and brings your mouth to his. His kisses are hot with lust, with greed, with envy of everyone who's ever touched your lips before him. You can smell yourself in his beard, sweet and heady like original sin.

You move, rocking back and forth on his cock, and he moves you, hands on your hips, your skirt in disarray, his shirt falling open as you wrestle with the buttons. He pulls you closer, pulls himself deeper, and you can feel his heart pounding when you brace yourself on his chest.

"Ain't gonna last long," he pants. "So fuckin' tight, baby, so perfect...."

"That's okay, that's okay," you say, stumbling over your words. The frame of the booth is groaning in legitimate complaint, the entire structure trembling slightly, and you're going to get caught, surely you are, and you'll be cast out together beyond the reach of forgiveness but that might be alright as long as you've got him with you.

You press yourself against him, as close as you can get and not close enough. He cums with his face buried in your chest and your name in his mouth like a prayer. The kick of his cock inside you grants you another little climax, a little death, little moans jarred from your lips with each waning thrust of his hips.

"Kiss me," you whisper, and he obeys, his eyes glazed, his gaze soft and adoring. His needy grip on your waist melts into caresses and you finger the buttons of his shirt like rosary beads. One is missing; you're both hopelessly disheveled, undeniably sin-touched. You push his hair off his forehead and back into place. "Did this help?"

He shakes his head and laughs quietly. "No."

"Made it worse."

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"'S okay." He kisses you again. "You're forgiven."

[chronic-boogara]

Ok so maybe something about Bo with a gn s/o who gets very giggly and flustered when Bo gives them physical affection and calls them pet names and stuff. Bo likes to tease them a lot about it and maybe he does this while dealing with tourists because he likes to watch them try to keep it together? Sorry if that makes so sense.

i think we all need a little bo in our lives so thank you for this. this idea is actually so so cute i can just imagine bo being all flirty around tourists and reader is just like ヾ(≧▽≦*)o. and as always you give me iconic asks 😌thank you babe

woah sorry this took stupid long

•bo is such a flirt. from the first day he laid eyes on you he was head over heels. he’s determined to make you his.

•issues every pickup line in the book. he definitely has them all written down somewhere

• “besides bein’ a cutie what else you do for a livin”? “well here i’m here. what are your other two wishes”. “if you was a fruit you’d be a fine-apple”.

•and his sweet southern accent makes him even harder to resist. you’re under his spell

•he’ll often call you thinks like “sugar” “honey” “sweet cheeks” or “darlin” knowing damn well how flustered that gets you

•bo will be right in the middle of handling a tourist and will decide to talk you up

•and no he doesn’t care what they think. it’s just you and him in the room.

•lester can’t stand to be in room with the two of you while vincent silently suffers. the family suffers at bo’s hands.

____________

the women thrashed violently in bo’s firm grip , screaming for help with tears streaming down her face. but no managed to stay calm and collected as always.

“you behavin yerself sugar plum”? he would ask, kissing you on your forehead. he knew you wouldn’t be able to say anything anyway so he’ll keep on with his business, carrying her down to vince.

all you could do was nod.

————

“how’s it goin sweet cheeks ? what’s a pretty thing like you doin round here”? he asked , wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close.

screams could be heard from inside the house. screams of agony and fear.

“shouldn’t you get that”?

bo shook his head. “nah don’t worry bout them. they’re vince’s problem now. i got to missin ya all day in the shop, you should come round and show all the guys your pretty face. they always want what they can’t have”.

—————

bo struggled to keep his prey held down. “just one kiss sweets”.

“no way bo what if they stab me or something. i’ll just wait”.

as if it was second nature he stabbed a screwdriver through the man’s hand causing him to scream before going limp.

“gimme one for good luck”.

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Your First Time With Them

pairings: vincent x reader, bo x reader

warnings: smut, handjob, unprotected sex, A LOT of fluff on vincent's part (in my opinion)

a/n: bo is REALLY growing on me. and also, vincent's part isn't so much their first time, more like first time being intimate because i thought it was just too tender to take any further lol. but i hope you like it <3

Vincent Sinclair

When you first started spending time with Vincent, he wouldn't let you so much as hold his hand. He'd spent so many years with only his brothers and his dog to keep him company that he'd forgotten what it was like to feel the touch of another person, a living one anyway. It was months before he finally allowed you to be closer to him, only ever flinching if you gave him no warning before touching him.

But when he finally does become comfortable enough to be intimate with you, it's when you're lying in bed together one morning. You'd been in this arrangement for a couple of months now, since Vincent had finally started to be okay with you seeing his face behind the mask. You were still asleep when he woke up, so he rolled over, gently tracing his fingers along your arm.

You groan, slowly peeling your eyes open before turning to face him, noticing the crooked smile on his face when you do. You're still getting used to seeing him so comfortable, so happy.

"Mm...you're beautiful when you smile." You mumble, bringing a hand up to brush the stray hairs away from his face.

He simply stares at you for a moment, before leaning forward and gently pressing his lips to yours. It's quick and it's over within seconds, but it surprises you nonetheless, because this is the first time he's kissed you like this. This is the first time he's kissed you.

You're unable to wipe the grin off your face then as you shuffle closer to him in the bed. And that's when you feel it, his hard length pressing against your stomach. You smile, looking down between you before looking back up at him, his mouth still twisted into a tiny grin.

"Is it okay if I...?" You ask, looking back down between your bodies, your hand already ghosting over his erection.

He gives you a small nod before your hand finally lands on his clothed cock, and he lets out a quiet gasp as you palm him through his boxers. You shuffle even closer to him under the covers, carefully slipping your hand inside his underwear, and you press a light kiss to his lips, the motion feeling foreign to both of you.

Vincent swears this is the best thing he's ever felt, your hand moving up and down his aching cock, whilst you both lay practically pressed together, his forehead resting against yours as his eye flutters shut.

And he doesn't feel like signing it, so he mouths 'I love you' against your mouth, hoping you understand.

"I love you too." You mumble against his lips.

Bo Sinclair

When you first arrived in Ambrose, Bo knew there was no way he was gonna let his brother have you, he wanted you all for himself. And he was surprised when you decided to stay without him having to use force. Bo's spent most of his life alone, never really getting close to anyone. The only person in his life who's ever stuck around is his brother Vincent, so he clings to you like a bad smell, terrified that you'll leave, although he doesn't tell you that.

It doesn't take long for you both to get intimate with each other. Bo's very sure of himself, so there's definitely no insecurity on his part. He comes home one day, still riled up from chasing some new victims through the town, and it doesn't take him long to start suggesting ways you might be able to make his day better.

He's slouched on the couch beside you, his hair practically dripping with sweat as he grins at you, his hand reaching over and landing on your thigh. "Come on darlin', you know it'll be worth your while."

It doesn't take much convincing before he has you straddling his lap, his hands roughly gripping your waist as he leans closer to you, his hot breath fanning over your lips. You can already feel his erection pressing into your clothed cunt, and it's driving you crazy.

"Fuck, you're an asshole." You sigh, your hands desperately gripping his shoulders as you begin to grind your hips over him.

"You're still here though, aren't ya?" He smirks, dipping his head down to drag his lips along your jawline.

"Jesus Christ, Bo." You groan, reaching down to unbuckle his belt, your fingers desperately working to get his trousers open.

He's still smirking at you as he helps you out of your jeans, dropping them to the floor along with your panties. And he wastes no time in pulling his aching cock out, guiding himself towards your entrance before sinking inside.

He leans closer to you, groaning as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hands desperately gripping your waist as you begin to move your hips over him, his cock effortlessly sliding in and out of you.

"You feel fuckin' amazing." You moan. "But for the record, you're still an asshole."

He simply chuckles as he thrusts up into you. "Noted."

[Main Masterlist] [Vincent Masterlist] [Bo Masterlist]

[sobeverly]

𝕽𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 🕯 𝕭𝖔 𝕾𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖗 🕯 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖑𝖚𝖉𝖊:

🕯 If you were standing beside one another just know his arm is wrapping around your neck. Your neck fits perfectly into the crook of his arm.. He likes keeping you close. The display oozes possession- you were his and only his.  Unintentionally or intentionally turning you on in the process.

🕯 Ill-tempered to say the least, Bo knew when he had taken things too far with you, and after a few even breaths (something you taught him). He’d come back to you and grab your chin so you’d look at him, “I apologize a’right? I was bein’ ugly to ya.” He’d press a firm kiss to your forehead then let you go. 

🕯 He listens to hard rock. Cue Dried up, Tied and Dead to the World by Marilyn Manson. Songs of that nature. So when you happen to play anything other than that while in the truck. He’d stare dumbfounded out the windshield, “What I tell ya about playin’ this shit?” Then he’d fumble with the radio until you said, “Bo, please?” Deep breath. “Fine– put the doe eyes ‘way.” He’d huff a little but seeing you smile was just enough for him to manage suffer through it.