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#bo sinclair x y/n
chubbyreaderchan · 1 year
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Slasher: *stabs y/n in the back*
Y/n: *doesn't flinch, but rubs the side where stabbed and looks around confused* That's not good.
Slasher: *cocks head in confusion*
Y/n: Sweetie, honestly I am chronically ill. I am in pain constantly. This is nothing.
Slasher: *keeps staring, confused*
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slasher-male-wife · 9 months
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Telling slashers you like 'hot old men'
I am an old man lover and enjoyer for life. I love hot old men I hope I become one when I'm older. So what better way then to make a post appreciating all of the hot old men I'm in love with. I know some of these men aren't like super old but it's still kind of old ok? We're talking an age range from 30's-50's. Also this was buried in my drafts since like April.
Includes: Doomhead, The Grabber, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, Hannibal Lecter, and Bo Sinclair
Warnings: Implied kidnapping in The Grabbers section
Doomhead
He honestly thought you said something else when you first said it. You two were watching a movie together and you made a comment on how you love "hot old men".
When he asks you to repeat yourself and you confirm that you said you love hot old men he laughs. He knows he's an older man but you saying that is really funny to him.
"Are you calling me an old man, sugar?" He asks you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. After you clarify you don't mean it in a negative way he just keeps laughing quietly.
He'll bring this up from time to time when he sees fit. He honestly might play up the 'old man' act just to tease you about it even more. But he's not too offended that you said it.
The Grabber
Because you've been behaving well he decided to treat you by giving you a magazine. He sat with you in the basement while you looked through the magazine.
He noticed you lingering on a page for a bit longer than the others. He asks you about why you're still on that page. You chuckle and tell him it's because there's an actor you love on it. "I just love old men." You say casually.
He pauses for a moment before he chuckles himself. He's an older man himself and because of your recent behavior. "Is that why you've been behaving so well for me?" He asks with a smile behind his mask.
Your chuckle and smile in response is all he needs to know. He's going to start subtly showing his age to you more and more. I think he'll try to show off his hands and arms. He's going to be so cocky about this and you'll never hear the end of it.
Mark Hoffman
You and Hoffman are coworkers and you've been dropping hints to him about your attraction to him. Today you were working with Hoffman, looking over some tapes when the discussion of how long you've been in the force came up.
When Hoffman mentioned when he graduated from the police academy and made a comment about how he's old you smiled and said, "Good thing I love old men."
He laughed it off at first then got a little defensive about how he's "not that old". You explained to him that you never meant it to be rude, you just meant to say that you find older men attractive.
He just nodded his head and went back to watching the tape over. But over the next few days he kept thinking about what you said. It's the most outwardly flirty you've been with him before. When he next sees you he asks you out and you accept.
Peter Strahm
You're on a date with him after being introduced to each other by a mutual friend. He took you somewhere nice and he's driving you home. You both feel a strong connection.
He mentions how long he's been working in the FBI and makes a comment about how you must think he's so old. But when you chuckle and tell him "Don't worry, I love old men." He chuckles too.
Peter isn't too much older than you but he still finds your comment funny. He asks you why and when you talk about how older men are more mature, provide stability, and they're just hot, he smiles and puts a hand on your thigh.
He thinks about your comment for awhile after the date. The comment and how well the date went leads him to asking you out again, which you of course say yes to.
Hannibal Lecter
You met Hannibal at an opera and he found you very attractive. He invited you over for dinner later in the week and you accepted. He made sure to make an impressive meal for you, which isn't hard for him to do.
You two start talking over dinner and Hannibal talks about his career as a surgeon then as a psychiatrist. He makes a comment about how you must think he's very old and you reply with, "I don't mind at all. I love old men."
He chuckles and says he's not that old. You tell him you know that but you start talking about how you love a man who looks more mature and has his life well put together.
The dinner goes well and he invites you over again later in the month. But he can't stop thinking about your comment. He knows he's an older man but he doesn't think he's that old. But the comment doesn't get to him too much because you like him anyway.
Bo Sinclair
You're sitting with Bo in his garage while he's working on a car. You're reading an old magazine when you start to giggle. He asks you what's so funny and you talk about how hot this model is.
When you show him the model Bo talks about how he looks pretty old to which you reply with "I love old men." Bo sets down his tool and looks at you.
"Are you saying I'm old, darlin'?" He asks you. You think for a moment before you tell him no. Bo is in his early 30's and you don't really consider that old.
You have to explain to him that by "old men" you mean men in their 40's and above. Bo will tease you about this constantly. Any time you two see an older man, either it being in a movie or a victim he asks you if he's your type.
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phntmeii · 7 months
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♡ Dating Bo and Vincent Sinclair Headcanons:
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❝ She always said your talent would make up for what God took away from you. ❝
[SFW Headcanons]
Pairings: Artist!Reader x Vincent Sinclair. FemBimbo!Reader x Bo Sinclair.
Warnings: Slight pervert!Bo Sinclair, Mentions of kidnapping+murders, Manipulation.
A/N: Sinclair Twins are some of my new favs. They are so delectably made I can’t- So here are headcanons BUT with describing what their specific types are instead of keeping it vague. Also, I view Vincent as a selective mute who’s vocal chords are a bit fucked up so he only speaks a few times a day so not a complete mute.
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Vincent Headcanons:
✎ Vincent hasn't had any dating experience so much of what he knows is from what Bo has told him which didn't make it interesting in his eyes. But when he sees you, all he wants to do is admire you for whatever reason.
✎ He’d specifically go after you and be the first victim he’d kidnap rather than outright kill.
✎ He tries to convince you he isn’t dangerous (to you) and does little things to prove it. Showing off his drawings, playing music for you, writing notes and letters to you.
✎ Vincent would honestly come off strong because he doesn’t understand how fast or slow a relationship to go. The moment he spotted you, you were already his in his mind.
✎ When you fall for him despite his masked face and silent behaviors, you adjust and get used to him. After all, he wasn’t bad at all. He’d keep you in his room which was tidy and neat as his mother taught him, he’d make sure you were completely taken care of and he was sweet in his little notes.
✎ Vincent’s handwriting is perfect as he was taught to do. His notes would be a little formal but adorable things to find before he slinks away to his studio. “Hello, Y/N. I hope you are adjusting well. :) I wanted to know what foods you like so I can tell Bo to make them. Please write back before lunchtime.”
✎ When he discovers you were an artist as well, he was giddy and excited! Someone who knew what it was like to cycle through ideas and fixate on a project for hours on end.
✎ His few words he’d speak a day would be regarding your own art. No matter what it was, he’d tell Lester to get you the supplies for it and watch over you as you worked.
✎ His ragged and hoarse voice spoken into your ear. “Beautiful…”
✎ He’d randomly gift mini wax sculptures of your favorite animals each week that he worked on between sculptures. Each one better and better than the last.
✎ Vincent thrives on your praise. Sweet boy can’t help but lower his head and blush under his mask at each compliment.
✎ His favorite thing about morning routines were when you’d touch and brush his hair. The massaging at the scalp and tingly feeling he’d get as the brush ran down his black strands felt all too good. He’d also let you do whatever hairstyle you wanted.
✎ Vincent would draw you constantly in his sketchbook. He has pages and pages of different angles of your face, what clothing you wore on a certain day or how you posed during breakfast.
✎ Any and I mean ANY sketches you give him in return? He’s holding onto it like it’s pure gold. He hangs it in his studio where he’s at the most to view it all the time.
✎ Trusts your critiques and observations more than anyone else’s and often asks for your opinion on his pieces.
✎ Doesn’t believe that you like his face without the mask but when he sees you present him with a sketch of his half-mutilated face, he’s stunned. To see him, the truest version of him, as something you deemed worthy to spend time depicting absolutely melts him. He starts to become more willing to remove his mask around you especially if it means he’ll get more drawings like that.
✎ Bo would want so badly to tease Vincent for how he acts around you since Vincent is absolutely infatuated but Bo and Lester find it adorable and are happy Vincent found someone despite everything.
✎ He would definitely want to do those heart hands or hand holding wax molds with you and keep it on his desk.
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Bo Headcanons:
> This man’s perfect woman has to be a bimbo, I’m sorry. Someone who is perfectly stupid to overlook some toxic qualities to him and won’t suspect any of his more… violent hobbies.
> Doesn’t have to be the stereotypical busty, all-pink wearing bimbo but just a pretty but airheaded girl.
> He’d originally plan on killing you when you showed up saying your car broke down. You were pretty but so were some other victims who had come through Ambrose. But that dumb factor? Oh, now he’s all in.
> Absolute charmer and reels you in and away from the rest of your group. He’d keep making up reasons as to why you should stay for longer than lie about where your group went.
> He’d keep you sat in the gas station, seeing you so easily entertained. He’d put on that charming smile and tuck your hair behind your ear. “Seems like everyone left you behind, sweetheart. How about you stay jus’ a bit longer, hm? Still need to fix up that car a’ yours, don’t we?”
> He does absolutely use your ditzy and air-headed nature to his advantage to tease because who is he if not a teasing charmer?
> “Aww, sugar, there ain’t much goin’ on in that pretty little head a’ yours, is there?”
> He has purposefully done something to make you trip so he can catch you and make it into a whole romantic scene.
> Absolutely brags to Vincent and Lester about how perfect his girlfriend is.
> He cannot get enough of you at the end of the day. He may have gone into it looking to just use you but consider yourself a charmer as well because he’s soon completely enraptured.
> He enjoys watching you get ready in the morning. Bo will get distracted himself and end up just watch you do your makeup for ten minutes, admiring how pretty you look for him.
> NOTHING BUT PRINCESS TREATMENT!!! He can be toxic and a tease but he likes to be a gentleman too.
> He’s kneeling to put on your shoes on for you, kissing up your leg as he does. He keeps a hand on your back to guide you as you two walk together. Don’t even think about paying for anything because his hand is already in his pocket, ready to pay.
> Bo spoils you rotten. He can’t help it when you smile so sweetly at him that it’s honestly unfair. Sometimes it’s stuff at the store other times it’s stuff he stole from a victim before they met their end. You wouldn’t know, of course, so it’s always a sweet thing.
> If he’s buying you clothes, he’s picking out the tightest options so he can see your body constantly. He’s already turned on constantly by you but he wants to have you all dolled up for him always.
> Although sometimes it can be annoying to have you be so oblivious, he resists any direct insults or rude names since he knows you’ll take it to heart. He never wants to see you upset.
> He knows how much you love his Southern accent and dials it up to 11 with sweet pet names when he needs you for something.
> “Sweetheart, do me a favor an’ pass me the wrench? S’got the blue handle, honey, you know which one.”
> Favorite thing he’s seen you do is when you stole his clothing and became a mini-Bo. Wearing his hat and a jumpsuit all proud of yourself and he couldn’t help but chuckle and claim you should dress like that more often so people know you’re all his.
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⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune
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y3strr · 1 month
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💌
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f1nalboys · 1 month
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Gotcha Something - Bo Sinclair
Bo Sinclair x Fem!GN!Reader
something short and sweet! happy valentines day guys! enjoy this thing ive been cooking up for a bit and failed at the execution <3
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WORD COUNT: 1513
WARNINGS: nice gift gone sexual fr, bo is a perv but hes OUR perv, photos of reader in sexual situations, brief descriptions of wounds and past abuse from bo, stockholm syndrome is our readers defualt setting now, reader has the same scars as bo, bo calls reader his 'girl' but no genitals are mentioned. some nsfw photos and a hint of recorded sex but nothing actually graphic. slight somno mention in one photo. mostly proofread but hey im just a guy
“Happy Valentine's Day, darlin.” Bo places the package onto your lap, sinking down onto the couch beside you. You glance at him with a cocked eyebrow and he grins, something sinister hidden underneath the charming exterior. “What? You ain’t expect me to getcha something?” He asks, placing a large hand over his heart, tsking at you. “You’re my girl, remember?”
He purrs into your ear, the springs of the couch creaking with his shifting weight. He taps the package with his fingers and sits back, waiting. You pick the gift up carefully, letting out a hum at the weight of it. “You wrapped it in newspaper?” You ask, a hint of teasing in your voice, and he snorts, shrugging. “Did a pretty good job, honestly.”
He watches you with an amused expression as you carefully untape the package, pulling the leatherbound photo album out with an awe-filled gasp. “I do good?” He asks you smugly as you fawn over the barely-decorated cover, fingers brushing over the black sharpie. ‘You and I through pictures’ was written in his familiar scrawl, all capital. “Fixed up that old camera I had, been taking photos. Figured I should put it to use.”
“I love it already.” You say and you mean it, you do. You can’t quite remember the time before him, before Ambrose and the suffocating walls of the garage and his house. Leaning over and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, you look back down at the photobook with a small smile. Flipping it open to the first page you gasp, the smile falling as you stare down at the first photo.
It was a polaroid of you. Taken from behind in the garage, you look at yourself looking at the wall of fan belts, one hand down by your thigh, the other reaching upwards to grab one of them. Whoever had taken this photo, Bo you assume, had been hiding from you, the camera taken at a lower angle, the corner of the counter in the bottom left of the frame. Your eyes drag down to the scrawled message just below the photo. 
“July 17 ‘20. First Time Meeting.” 
“You looked so fuckin’ sexy that day.” Bo whispers, his arm sliding across your shoulder to bring you a little closer to him. You keep looking at the photo. “Knew I had to have you. You remember that?”
You nod your head slightly. “Mostly. It’s hard to remember anything before the garage.” You admit, looking at him. His smile falters, his jaw setting, and you’re quick to continue talking, a flash of panic in your chest. “But I remember meeting you! Your smile, your charm, you know?” You say, forcing a smile, eyes searching his. “I thought you were so cute, I just needed your help to make a move, right?”
“That’s right.” He says, and your shoulders dip as you breathe out in relief. You look back at the photo album, letting your finger trail down your frame in the photo. “Glad you broke when you did,” he purrs into your ear, his hand on your upper arm squeezing tightly for a moment. “That way I got to keep ‘ya. Would’ve been such a waste otherwise.” You hum, agreeing with him. Of course you agreed. Before Bo, you had too many opinions, too many thoughts in your head. He helped you realize your place wasn’t out there in the world, dealing with the headaches of everyday bullshit, it wasn’t here by Bo’s side, helping him get through the day and letting him put up with you. “Keep goin’.” 
He sounds excited, leaning forwards to grab his pack of cigs and lighter from the coffee table, lighting one and taking a puff as he watches you flip to the next page. This photo is dated a day later, but the photo makes you wince. You were strapped to the chair in the garage, your face cut to hell, duct tape over your mouth, your eyes filled with tears and fear. You can barely make out the red and raw skin on your wrists and ankles due to the grain and you let out a shaky breath when Bo’s fingers lovingly run along your wrists, the warped skin warm to his touch. 
You glance up at him and see his eyes transfixed onto your wrists, a pleased smile on his lips. “You used to cry for so long,” He whispers, pressing his thumb against the scar, the cigarette dangling from his lip. “In the beginning. Used to piss me off, kinda like a dog whinin’.” He chuckles, finally letting go of your wrist. “Kinda turned me on, though. Hearin’ you beggin’ me to let you go, to undo your wrists…” 
“Yeah, I know it turned you on,” you say with a slight laugh, tapping the next photo, dated a month and a half later. “See? You even wrote ‘Our First Time’ on it.” This photo does bring a smile to your face. Your face is covered by your hands, dried blood on your wrists, your legs spread wide for him. Your shirt hung off your shoulders and if you think hard enough you can hear the sound of his knife cutting through the fabric. Bo’s jean clad legs could be seen in the bottom of the frame where he was positioned in between your legs. They were unbuttoned and showed off his freckled stomach and the thick line of hair that disappeared under his boxers. 
He had been surprisingly gentle that night, lighting the melted down candles and playing jazz on the stereo upstairs. Bo had laid you down on the dirty mattress, his eyes taking in every single inch of your body, his grip only tightening when you attempted to cover yourself. It had been the turning point for you in some strange way, seeing that side of him. It made you realize that he had been telling the truth; you did love him. 
“Still just as tight,” he says, his attempt at a compliment as he takes control of flipping through the album. Each photo causes you to blush harder, squirm in your seat. A photo of his cock inside you, bruise marks on your thighs. Another showed you on your stomach, wrists held back by his belt, hand prints on your ass. You strapped to the chair with a smile on your face and a fresh cut on your cheek. You looking up at the camera through your eyelashes and a pleading look. A photo of you sleeping and his cock pressed between your lips.
And those were just the photos where you were mostly aware of the camera. 
The end of the photo album had three photos to a page, a quickly scrawled date and word next to each one. The photo of you in the kitchen wearing Bo’s button up shirt at the stove was captioned ‘10/13/21. Cooking.’ The one of you asleep in Bo’s bed was captioned ‘11/08/21. Sleeping.’  You fixing up Bo’s mechanics uniform, 12/23/21. Sewing. You reading a book on the couch, 1/02/22. Relaxing. You with Vincent and Lester at the kitchen playing a boardgame surrounded with pizza and beer, 5/28/22. Game Night. You hunched over a cake with your tongue poking out and a piping bag in hand taken from the hallway, 9/18/22. My Birthday.
“You really took all these?” You ask, glancing at him. He seems a little bashful now, his cigarette smoked down to a stub for once. He shrugs, putting the cigarette out onto the ashtray and settling back against the couch. “I love it, Bo.” You say, your voice cracking slightly. “This was sweet.”
“Yeah, well… figured you deserved it.” He says with a roll of his eyes, eyeing you carefully. Sure, some of the photos were perverted, and it chronicled exactly what he put you through in the very beginning, but it showed that he had planned to keep you from the very beginning. You give him a quick kiss, deepening it by placing your hand on his chest. “Really loved it, huh?” Bo teases, kissing you back. He gives you a sideways smirk when you move to straddle him, his hands instantly resting on your hips.
You fiddle with the top button of his shirt, biting back your own pleased grin. “For your gift, I was thinking…” Bo cocks an eyebrow at you as you trail off before you lean in, whispering in his ear. “Maybe you can get that camcorder from Vinny and use it tonight? Whatever you want?”
“Whatever I want?” He asks, amused, his grip on your hips tightening slightly. His eyes are dark. “Guess I need to do sappy shit for ‘ya more often then if it gets ‘ya like this for me.” He grabs your hand, bringing your wrist to his lips quickly before he’s gently pushing you off of him. “Get on to the bedroom. Don’t think about takin’ those clothes off; I want the camera to see it all, darlin’.”
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loveandmurders · 5 months
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You belong to Ambrose I (poly!Sinclairs x f!reader)
Hey everyone, I'm happy to finally post the first part of this imagine.
I really hope you'll enjoy it <3
Warnings: no proof reading, a few strong words, angst, dangerous!Lester, mentions of violence, blood and murders, morally grey reader.
“Hey, mom, what do you think Ambrose looks like now?” you heard yourself asking your mother without even meaning to.
The woman sent you a quick glance before her attention went back on the food she was preparing on the kitchen table.
“Why?” she sternly asked back and you tried to shrug it off, no matter how embarrassed you were starting to feel about the whole conversation you just brought up.
“Don’t know. I’m just planning a road trip with friends and we’ll go close back to where Ambrose is…was. I noticed it wasn’t even marked on maps anymore” you explained and your mother hummed
“Then you got your answer. Ambrose must be gone.” she said “Like the brothers you used to love so much” she replied and sent you another look, as you glanced down at your lap, in shame.
You should have known better than to talk about Ambrose to your mother. The woman had always wanted to pretend it had been a terrible nightmare.
“Mom…” you whispered
“I’ve never understood why you were so fond of them. Your dad either. They were a terrible influence on you. I’m happy you decided to burn the bridges with them and that you never went back to Ambrose. There was nothing for you there. And those people were troublesome and violent and… freaks. You deserved way better than them.” she continued and you resisted the urge to take their defence. They weren’t freaks, they were… a great part of your life and now a great hole inside your chest. “What was their name again?” your mother asked.
“Sinclairs” you instantly replied before biting your tongue
“Ah yes. Well, I’m glad you didn’t become one” she continued and you frowned at that.
“What do you mean, mom?” you wondered with a tilt of your head
“The eldest one, when he came back to Ambrose after his mother died and that he was sent away for a few months, and before his dad died that same day, he looked for you. He knocked at our door. Thank God you were away with your dad then. I told him to go away and he assured me that he would never go away from you, and that you would become his wife one day too.”
“His… wife” you whispered, your heart aching.
Bo was indeed often speaking about marrying you and sharing you with his brothers, but you always thought there were only words; the Sinclairs never really planned out their future. Bo was too obsessed with cars and getting free from his family to care about anything else. Vincent was too focused on his art. Lester was just a lost kid wandering into the woods late at night. You hadn’t thought they were actually seeing you as their future. You always appeased Bo, you always brought Vincent back to reality, you always helped Lester feel like he was part of something.
“To be honest” your mom resumed and your attention went back on her “with the amount of time you were spending with him and his brothers, I was really worried you would agree on doing something that stupid. And even though you left Ambrose heartbroken and sobbing, I’m happy something happened between you, him and his twin, that day. I don’t know what it is, but I knew it convinced you to leave.” she continued and you didn’t answer. The memory of that day was still burning you to the core.
You had been so happy so see Bo and later on, Vincent. You had run into their arms and they had hugged you with fierce love. You were all planning on getting Lester back too. 
And then, Bo killed his dad and Vincent told you he was going to continue the House of Wax, the way his mother always did. You knew about the murders, you knew people were beneath the wax, but you never said anything because you loved the boys. And despite how an awful mother Trudy was, she liked you. You were a girl, and she could finally chat around with what looked like a daughter to her. Victor was also a little more careful around you. You were loved by the Sinclairs, and they couldn’t explain it; it just happened.
But their love was dark and violent, and you couldn’t agree to live like that; you couldn’t stay in Ambrose when everything was dying around and you couldn’t live from murders. You promised yourself to never betray your boys, but at the same time, you left with your parents without a goodbye. You knew that if you decided to go see the twins one last time, they would convince you to stay and it couldn’t happen. You never recovered from the fact you didn’t see Lester again before leaving and you hoped Bo had been able to bring him back home. You were certain he did though, because his people were the only thing that mattered to him.
You were about to leave the kitchen when your mother called your name and you turned around, with a raised eyebrow, silently asking her what she wanted.
“Do me a favour and stay away from Ambrose during your little road trip, okay?” she said with a hint of concern in her voice
“You said yourself that there is nothing there anymore anyways” you replied, a little bit surprised by your mother’s attitude
“I know but… I don’t want you to tempt the devil” she replied and you only found yourself nodding. 
You wondered if by the devil she meant Bo.
Bo knelt in front of a woman he just killed. She was the last one of the group and he was glad about it because he felt quite tired now. It was too hot today to play hide and seek with assholes. At least, the night was already casting its shadows around Ambrose and bringing with it a little bit of fresh air. Bo looked down at the woman, tilting his head to the side as he watched the pretty necklace she had around her neck. It was slightly covered in blood but he was pretty sure he could wash it without trouble. It looked expensive; he was certain the glitter coming from beneath the blood was a little diamond. He took it off her body without a care and pocketed it before Vincent could use this jewel on his next wax statue.
“Y/N would’ve liked it” Bo hummed to himself before sadly sighting. His throat tightened as always when he was saying your name out loud.
Whenever he was spotting something that reminded him of you, he was always grabbing it and putting it away, in a box filled with gifts for you. He never stopped hoping that one day he would be able to give you this box. You would realise how much you were loved then; but so far it only happened in his dreams. And yet, he was thinking about you everyday of his life and he still believed you would come back home one day. He was certain you were meant to be a Sinclair; even his parents were liking you so it had to mean something. He missed you so much, he missed your laugh and he missed the way you loved his brothers and himself. Ambrose was empty without you. Life had always been shit, but your absence was torture. He had thought that after a few years, the pain would subside, but it really didn’t. It often felt like it was actually growing up inside his chest. You left with a piece of themselves, you left with the only sun and happiness the boys truly felt. He knew his brothers were feeling the same, because everytime they were all eating together at night, the conversation always ended on what you became. And on why you never came back.
They could guess you were disapproving of the killing, but they couldn’t stand the idea that maybe you got scared of them. They couldn’t even say it out loud; you were the only thing they would never have hurt.
Bo sighted again as he grabbed the woman by her ankles and he started to pull her to the house. Vincent came upstairs when he heard a body being dragged on the floor and he helped his twin out. Vincent could tell by the look in Bo’s eyes that he was thinking about you. It was the only moment Bo was utterly silent too, lost in thoughts.
Vincent couldn’t blame him. He had hundreds of books filled with drawings of you. Whenever he thought that he would never hear your voice again, never feel your touch on his skin anymore, Vincent was drawing you. He was certain you existed that way, and he was certain he would never forget about what you looked like, even if he knew your figure and face were carved inside his chest and brain. You used to caress the bad side of his face and to remind him he was handsome, even in front of Trudy or Victor. You had never been afraid to show yourself with “the freak”. And his skin felt so dry and painful now your fingers hadn’t traced it in years.
The twins worked in utter silence and none of them felt hungry that night, so they went to bed earlier than usual. None of them slept actually, simply staring at the ceiling or at the wall, wondering where you were and if you were happy… without them. They wanted you to be happy as much as they wanted you to be miserable without them, because it was their only chance you would one day come back home.
Lester wasn’t better than the twins. And if Bo fucked with some girls, Lester just couldn’t even think about touching someone else than you. It felt wrong to him. He promised you he was yours and only yours after all. He had always enjoyed how a little bit possessive you were with the three of them. Lester wasn’t certain of a lot of things, but he knew he belonged to you. You had always loved them equally, giving them the love they were all craving so much.
You were always in Lester’s mind. He was always hoping to find you among a group of tourists, to be fair. He never stopped looking for you and hoping to see you again. You belonged to them too, so he couldn’t understand how you could live away from them. And he knew that if he ever found you again, he wouldn’t hesitate to lock you up somewhere if it meant keeping you by his side. Forever. 
And he was certain that the twins were thinking the same. They lost you once, they wouldn’t allow it to happen again.
But for that… he needed to find you first. 
And every morning and every night, he promised himself he would. Out of the three, he was the one who was the most certain he could get you back home, no matter if you wanted it or not. You were his little goddess, so he was certain that at some point you would come close to Ambrose again… and he would stumble upon you… and he would get you home. You would become the divinity of Ambrose once again, and everything would be alright.
One day, luck seemed to be on his side.
The closer you drove to Ambrose, the more you recognised the roads. Your mother’s words never stopped echoing inside your head and at some point, you turned the wheel so you wouldn't get too close to the place. A part of you wanted to drive right back to it; you even felt a little pang when you took the opposite path. You wanted to be back home more than anything, but you were too afraid of what would await you there. You even believed that the twins would be so mad at you, they would kill you and turn you into a wax statue so you couldn’t leave anymore without saying goodbye.
You found a little campsite and you all decided to spend the evening and night there. You forced yourself to focus on your people so you could forget about the Sinclairs. Another part of you was begging you to leave this place and to drive as far as possible away from Ambrose. You had no idea which parts of you were stronger.
You realised you didn’t have enough food for tonight so you and another girl took the car to find a shop nearby. It was late so a lot of them were close and you had to admit, you shivered in fear when your friend showed you the only store open 24/7 in the area. It was very close to Ambrose; little did you know that it was actually the town Lester was living in. You tried to not show anything as you drove to the store. You crossed your fingers to not run into any of the Sinclairs before you thought how stupid this was. The boys wouldn’t be there, and they might even be dead because of their way of life. And you were a lucky girl, something like that couldn’t happen to you.
Even if something inside of you was bubbling in excitement and hope.
As you entered the store, a man was leaving it. He moved to the side to let you come in and as you were about to thank him, your eyes met his and widened.
Lester.
You tried to move past him, hoping he wouldn’t have recognised you or that he would hate you enough to let you go easily. But you were a fool. He instantly grabbed your wrist as he whispered your name, bringing you back to him. He was in trance. He couldn’t believe the day finally came. Your friend frowned, wondering what was going on. She placed an arm around your shoulder to show you support
“Can you let go of her, buddy?” she calmly said and Lester instantly obeyed, not wanting to cause a scene. He put his hands in front of him in defence.
“Sorry. Hi, Y/N, ‘s been a long time” he hummed, looking for your eyes.
“Hi, Les. Sorry, but we’re a bit in a hurry here, we’ll chat another time, hmm?” you said, hoping to get out of this discussion as fast as possible. Goosebumps littered his skin at the sound of your voice calling him by his nickname.
You were surprised when Lester simply smiled and nodded. You noticed his grin didn’t reach his eyes though and you suppressed a shiver. You knew you were in trouble, especially with him letting you go so easily. Even more when he cheerfully said as you turned your back to him “See you soon, darl”
Lester settled in his truck and waited for you and your friend to get out of the store. He dialled his big brother’s number with a light in his eyes. It was the first time in so long he felt like he was finally alive. He was certain things were finally going to be good.
“‘S up, Les?” Bo hummed at the other side of the line, always answering his phone very fast whenever his brothers needed him
“She’s here.” Lester simply said because he was too happy and excited to say anything else.
“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout, kid?” Bo asked, not wanting to get some false hope.
“Y/N. She’s at the store. She’s with a friend. Gonna follow them, I’ll send ya their location… And we’ll bring her home tonight”
It was a promise.
And a threat.
--
Taglist : @lacychick ; @magical-sass ; @limehaspassed ; @loveinglymessedup ; @bloodmoon-bites ; @iwantsleepplz ; @kawaistrawberry21
--
PART II
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rzyraffek · 11 months
Note
I have a little smut request, if you don't like or don't want to write I understand that's alright.
When slashers are take a shower then S/O suddenly get in
Bo please must have him, I love this man too much, and Vincent, Lester, Brahms, Thomas, or other slashers you want to write. (or you think I pick too much you can pick some, but please Bo must thank you so much❤️)
I just think this will be fun
Oh, btw, I very love your work so perfect so wonderful so amazing❤️❤️❤️
Yall really love Sinclair's😭😭 ALSO THANK YOU V MUCH IM GLAD YALL ENJOY MY BLOG!!!! Before you read that I need to remind yall that I DONT USUALLY WRITE NSFW STUFF SO DONT EXPECT ANYTHING GREAT HERE!! Request open
Nsfw, but nothing too detailed, they/them pronouns for s/o
Shower zegz with slashers
Bo Sinclair
Our guy will make sure that they will remember that shower for long time
Yknow when you just vibe in shower and you accidently touch cold wall with your back and get all cold and upset? Yeah if s/o has the same problem.. too bad he doenst care they are getting pinned to that wall in seconds anyways
He loves seeing their face, how they react to his actions and words, how their body moves because of him
Will comment A LOT, expect a lot of praising, some cruse words and alot of growls tbh
He marks them 100% one way or another. Bite marks, Hickeys ( alot of them), ect
Afterwards he gonna bring them a towel and make sure they can go to bedroom and rest there for a while. This guy isn't the best at aftercare but he isn't heartless!
Vincent
No bcs he will blush sososo hard😨😳
Like they have to make first move cuz this guy will just stand there awkwardly looking like he has stick up his ass
He gonna be so gentle with them💖 carefully grabbing their hips/hair and enjoying the view moment
Tbh he loves grabbing their hair and vice versa, if s/o is touchy he gonna be sosos blushy
Also afterward he gonna wash their hair probably🥰 making sure they at least get out of this shower clean lol
Brahms Heelshire
Nah bcs this guy will be the one to actually pull them into shower, like s/o was just vibing doing their skincare routine and this guy just grabbed them and yeeted them into shower
He gonna act like he just wants to spent time together🙄🙄 yeah totally
Pls make sure that s/o calls him good boi or he gonna bite them
Also ngl he probably looks sexy asf with wet hair
Incredibly affectionate, yall will be extremely close to each other for the whole thing. And expect him to wisper and growl into s/o year
Thomas Hewitt
This babi will be soso confused??? Like???? Oh you wanna shower together?? Yeah sure ig I don't mind???
Again s/o has to do first move cuz he won't even think about asking them about that type of stuff! Hes a gentleman he would neverr.. unless they ask him ofc
S/o gonna forgor how to walk for few hours at least
He just gonna pick them up and pin them to wall like s/o weights nothing (tbh it doesnt really matter how much they weight this guy picked up adult men and whooped other one at the same time without any struggle, really dont worry)
He cant really tell them how he feels so he just gonna gently pat them or nuzzle them.
He will feel bad afterwards when their legs shake or when they can't really walk 😓
Micheal Myers
Tbh the only reason he showed was bcs they promised him that he will get reward later. Fr this guy stinks
Sex with him is incredibly akward. He doenst make any noise nor shows any kind of affection? Maybe he gonna carry them to bed afterwards or bring them towel?? Like this guy never heard about aftercare, or care overall tbh
He will never show it but he loves when s/o gives him affection or tells him nice words, how good he is and how great his doing his job rn
Not my proudest one! I really suck at nsfw stuff sorry😓😓 also I had nightmare and there was Bo for some reason ?? But he had heavy cowboy-texas accent ??? Idk why. Anyways its 2am yall have great rest of day
This post was made by asexual gang, like and subscribe to join asexual gang
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callie-the-creator · 4 months
Text
the sinclair brothers’ reactions to you getting nipple piercings
mild nsfw. mdni. warnings: suggestive content, nipple piercings, etc.
author’s note: i tried to write the reader as gender-neutral as possible.
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bo sinclair
• once you lifted your shirt up, bo’s jaw dropped to the floor as his eyes widened. he was still in his work getup — did you do this when he was gone? he had so many questions…but, it didn’t take bo long to shake his initial shock and replace it with his smirk
• he thinks your new piercings are hot as fuck and even made you all the more attractive. hell, he didn’t even think such a thing was possible!
• bo immediately tossed all his stuff to the closest chair and walked over to you where he moved his calloused hands up from your hips to right under your chest
• even though he likes to admit to it, bo can be quite the charmer at times. so, after he did this, bo started to shower you in compliments and as he did, lowered himself onto his knees as his hands rested on your as, like you were some deity
• all of this was a pleasant surprise, just what he needed actually, and bo cannot wait to see more of your piercings, especially in the bedroom
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vincent sinclair
• he first thought you accidentally got hurt, so he came rushing to your side to help you out, only to have you you explain to him what they were
• he was, at first, confused. sure, vincent has seen a few piercings in his time because of the wax statues he makes…but…he’s never seen any that were on someone’s nipples
• when asked if he understood, vincent simply nodded his head as he moved closer to inspected your new piercings until his chest was almost touching yours
• he outstretched his hands, but didn’t touch you right away. instead, vincent glanced between your nipples, to your eyes, back down to your piercings, asking for permission. with a laugh, you gave him exactly that
• vincent made sure to be especially gentle with you as he caressed the sides of your chest, his rough and large hands slowly creeping closer to your nipples before stopping when he got close to the piercing. he didn’t want to touch them since there was a chance you were sore, so vincent merely moved his hands around the area, all the while he admired your new jewelry
• he likes them, it’s just going to take some time getting used to them is all…
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lester sinclair
• “now, why’d you have to go ‘n do that?” was lester’s question when you told him you had gotten nipple piercings as he drove down the road to the house
• he didn’t want to believe you because of how unlike you it sounded. this must’ve been your way of trying to pull a prank on him…
• he kept denying that you got piercings there until you had enough of the bickering and lifted up your shirt, prompting lester to do a double-take at the sight of your new jewelry
• his breath was taken away and he was left speechless. he cleared his throat as he turned his attention back on the road whilst you pulled down your shirt to cover yourself up
• the drive to the house was mostly quiet
- that is, until lester parked his truck
• just as when you were going to hop out of the truck, lester stopped you by calling out your name, so you hesitated and looked back at him quizzically, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t somewhat upset with him
• “can i, uh…see ‘em again?”
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4doll · 11 months
Note
Theo i'm already read all your rules for request and in that rules you will write +18 but , in the rules you will not accept it says sexism . does that mean sex?! correct me i was wrong . btw, did I request Michael myers , brams heelshire , and bo Sinclair the s/o really likes getting her big tits massaged .❤️😩
You don't have to do it , if you don't feel comfortable wit it .
Btw, i like your blog
𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒
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𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐒
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Micheal first discovered that you liked having your breasts massaged when you were riding him and started to massage your own breasts.
He watched you for a moment, his hands moving up to your waist.
His hands simply took yours off of your breasts. You were confused at first
Then Micheal started to massage them for you, enjoying watching you realize what he was doing and ride him even faster.
After that he had started to massage your breasts during when you would ride him and with positions he could do so.
He loves running his fingers over your hard nipples, grazing over them enough for you to feel it while he’s massaging them.
He also has discovered he loves massaging your breasts, the pure pleasure of watching you ride faster and harder as he massages them turns him on.
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𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐇𝐌𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐄
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Even if he didn’t know that you liked having your breasts being massaged he was obsessed with your breasts.
His hands were always on them, he never noticed how your breath hitched up or the small blush on your face every time he had his hands on your breasts.
But when you letting him thrust up into you he watched you intently as you massaged your own breasts, clenching around him tighter.
He quickly understood, moving your own hands out the way and does it for you. Looking up at you in awe waiting to see your reaction.
His fingers ran over your harden nipples and you came. He was absolutely even more obsessed with you, watching you cum from his a simple touch over your nipples made him teeter over the edge of an orgasm.
After you and him calmed down and cleaned up he asked “So you like when I massage your breasts?” he noticed the small blush on your face and took that as a yes.
He was obsessed with your breasts before but was even more obsessed now. After learning how you can cum from a simple massage and his fingers running over your nipples.
Ever since then every single time you fucked his hands were on your breasts no matter how complicated the position was.
And ever since then he likes cow girl and missionary. Making it easy to massage and touch them.
He loves watching them bounce in his hands as he thrusts into you.
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𝐁𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑
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He’s very observant, so the first time he had touched your breasts during sex he noticed how you clenched around him and how you rode him even faster.
During when he first touched your breasts during sex he asked “You like that, huh?” and you nodded as you rode him faster.
Ever since then he would massage your breasts during sex and not during sex.
He loves to surprise you from behind when you’re doing something by him putting his hands over your breasts and pulling you close to his chest.
When he doesn’t get to massage your breasts when his hands are full or if the position doesn’t work for him to massage them. He just watches you massage your own breasts, he thrusts into you faster after watching you.
He finds it so hot when you moan and massage your own breasts and clench around him from your own touch.
He also ever since he found this out he has been obsessed with your breasts, he was obsessed with them before but even more obsessed with them after seeing you ride him faster from your own touch.
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taglist: @sojaae @strawbearyyyyysblog @starboashee @gr4veyardg1rl
A/N: To answer Anon, no that doesn’t mean sex! And btw thank you! Also for everyone because I’ve hit 300 followers I’ll be posting 3 fics / headcanons over the next few days🤭 Thank you so much for 300 followers btw! <3
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small-sinclair · 6 months
Text
For you
Obsessed!Bo Sinclair x reader
Tw: mention of blood, gore, Bo being obsessed with reader, mention of him wanted to drink blood, he’s a bit unhealthy, beheading in graphic detail!!!! (Maybe you can read this as I’m being a vampire if you squint?)
Let me know if you want more Obsessed!Bo Sinclair!
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When he found you bleeding on the floor and crying in the House of Wax, he felt his heart shatter. He felt as if his world was falling apart because he couldn’t keep you safe.
“You’re hurt,” he whispers silently to himself, pain in his voice. There’s still blood in his hair from the latest kill, but the wild and untamed eyes turned worried and hurt when he sees your leg scrapped. Though it wasn’t it big or major, you still cried from the pain.
He knelt next to you and caressed your cheek. He thumbed away the stray tears that fell, and it felt like acid burning through his skin and bones. “Who did this to you?” He asked gently, his voice mixed in venom and silk. “Who did it?”
You leaned into his touch. “It doesn’t matter—“
“Sweetheart,” he starts, lifting your chin with his hand. “Tell me. Who did this?” You could see blood and red starting to fill his blue eyes. “Point to me where he went.”
You didn’t need to tell him anything as he heard the girl running away screaming from Vincent. He looked at you then at Vincent, and he slowly raised your hand to kiss it. His lips were soft and cracked against your skin. “I’ll be back, my sunflower,” he whispers in your skin. “I promise. Her head will be yours.”
He doesn’t let you say anything else as he stands up and leaves. He’s a hunter, born and raised. The taste of blood and bone will be forever stained in his teeth and tongue.
“She’s mine,” he hissed at Vincent as he walked past him, stealing the dragon-headed knife handle. He knows the girl can’t leave. She’s trap in this maze his mother created.
He’s like a wolf approaching a rabbit as he enters a room. He sees the girl trying to escape, and he only smirks. He loves it when they run and escape. Bo drew closer to her, the knife tight in his hand until his knuckles turned white. Flashes of you crying and bleeding in front of him made his heart burst and boil. The cries from the girl muffled away in his ears and her pleads go unheard. With a mighty shove, he had her on the ground. She coward away from him but he stood over her. He could see her lips moving, but her words didn’t reach him.
The only thing he heard was your broken sobs of pain and the acid tears that touched his skin. You’re his sunflower, his deity, the one he’ll hunt for. He felt like he failed you when he saw you hurt. Your tears and blood stained on his paints. He’s not worthy of your blood. He can’t be. The more he thought about you crying, the more he wanted the girl gone. He didn’t her in town. He didn’t want you to see her ever again.
He raised the knife high and brought it down. He felt the skin and the blade cutting, but it wasn’t fatal. He stabbed again and again, over and over, until she laid barely breathing and tears streaming down her cheeks. He felt the warmth of the blood on his face and smiled like a devil. He twirled the knife with his fingers and brought it over the girl’s throat, cutting it deep. Even when dead, he didn’t stop. He cut deeper and deeper under her head was clean off. He grabbed a fist full of her hair and lifted it high. He tilted his head to the side and examined the girl and her face without a care in his eyes. Bo stood with her head in his hand and walked back where you were.
Vincent was next to you as he helped bandage your leg. He frowns when he saw you, but his smile returns. He felt like a servant bring an offering to a royal as he came closer with the girl’s head hanging from her hair in his hands. He promised to bring you her head, and he was going to keep good. He would carved your name in his skin with a rusty spoon if you ask him— no, command him. You’re his everything, and he’ll serve you until the bitter end. He’d lick your blood off the floor and worship the ground you bled on if it pleases you! The very thought of it made his heart flutter just a bit along with the idea of you letting him taste your blood. He wanted to feel closer to you… he wanted to know how you would tasted.
He stands a couple feet away from you when he falls to his knees. You look over and horror fills your eyes once you see the girl’s lifeless eyes looking at you. You want to scream, but you can’t. You couldn’t.
Bo place the head between you and him as he lowered his head to a bow. “For you,” he says in a low voice. “Her head as promised.”
You can’t speak as you look at the head then back at Bo. He’s done it. He’s gone to far in loving you that it’s become unhealthy. The puppy blue eyes that he flashes, the hearts dancing in his eyes, and the sweet rose petals and daisy voice no longer feels safe. He did this for you.
Just.
For.
You.
Sickness fills you but your eyes roll back and you fell in Vincent’s arms.
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spinning-stars · 9 months
Text
Mini smut fics! 🦴Slashers🦴 Part 1
Slashers x Reader
(no genitalia is mentioned but its implied afab!!!)
💥NSFW!!! SMUT!!! LEMON!!! WHATEVER YOU WANNA CALL IT!!!💥
Slashers- Billy and Stu, The Sinclair brothers (Vincent, Bo, Lester), Michael Myers.
Warnings ⚠️- knife play, wax play,body worship, degrading, usage of the word slut, p in v sex, bondage, oral giving and receiving, I made Billy a Sub. (I'll let you know when the bondage, wax play, body worship, degrading usage of the word slut, and knife play)
👻Billy Loomis-
"Please..." Billy looked down at you, eyes filled with lust. You have been teasing his dick for only a small hour, and he was begging for his release. His arms were tied behind his back and you were trying your best to hold his hips still to keep him from thrusting into your mouth. Occasionally you will let his hips go for about a minute or two only to stop his the second he gets close. You gently run your hand over the tip, making his body shiver. "You're going to have to beg more pretty boy," you say while staring up at him with the most innocent eyes. "Fuck... Please, I need it... Y/N... Please" He whimpers while lightly closing his eyes. "Good boy, you earned it," you said while taking him fully in your mouth and lightly sucking. It didn't take much time before his thighs began to shake and you felt his release in your mouth. His soft moans followed his climax.
👻✨Stu Macher-
Stu had your legs spread while you were sitting on his lap. He was rocking his hips back and forth, his hands are leaving deep bruises on your hips. He would occasionally thrust his hips up into you but then continued back into rocking. Stu like teasing you he felt like he was in complete control you would hold down your hips and stop you if you tried moving faster or slower than what he said. "Awe what's wrong Y/n... I thought you could take me. " Stu groans as he sped up a bit. He could feel you tightening around his cock. He slowly moved one of his hands to your thigh and gave it a light squeeze. He thrusted up a bit more into you. He felt your legs start to shake and your nails dig into your back before you both released. You fell into chest and you both began panting.
🎨Vincent Sinclair-
(💥Wax play, Bondage, body worship!!! 💥)
Vincent what's making you into his own kind of art art. He had you tied up the prettiest color of red rope, your legs were spread and your arms were tied above your head. A cute heart design was made on your chest using the rope. Vincent it's on the other end fingering you. He had a hot candle dripping wax on your body. Every time you wince in pain he bends down and lightly kisses that spot. When he wasn't kissing you he was rubbing your body lightly. " You're so beautiful... My muse." You tighten around his fingers and he speeds up trying not to hurt you. When you came he got on his knees and started to eat you out, tuning into your sweet whimpers and moans as you squirm above him.
🔧Bo Sinclair-
(💥 degrading, usage of the word slut, light Bondage💥)
Bo had you been over his giant Dark blue toolbox in the shop. Y'all were doing a quickie before the victims came back to the shop to check on there car. He was ramming in behind you with deep, quick thrust. "Fuck y/n... You feel so nice... you're so damn needy."He groans and throws his head back while picking up the pace. He then slaps your ass leaving a perfect bright red handprint. "You're my slut, Ain't ya'?." He asks as he feels your legs shake and you tighten around his cock. He slows down a tad bit just to leave hickeys and bites on your back and neck. He lets you suck his fingers to keep you from making too much noise. "Shhh... keep quiet, you don't want em' to think you're a slut now do ya?" He says as he bites your shoulder causing you to bleed. He then speeds up the pace while squeezing your ass until you both cum. He loves to pull out and see how much he wrecked you in such little time.
🐾Lester Sinclair-
(💥slight body worship💥)
Lester is the biggest sucker for truck sex. He took his old jacket and folded it into a makeshift pillow, so you don't hurt your head laying on the bed of the truck. Lester is gentle, he kisses your body before sticking it in. He lightly pumped in and out of you while holding on to your hand. "Shit... Honey you're warm and nice." He moans while speeding up a bit. He cums first and then kneels down. "Can't let someone as pretty as you not finish," he pants a bit before eating you out. He bounces back and forth between eating you out and kissing your inner thighs. Here and there leaving light bites until you cum.
🔪Michael Myers-
(💥Knife play 💥)
Michael had you in missionary when he began lightly dragging the tip of his Knife by your side. He was going at a deep but normal pace surprisingly. He looked down to admire his work, you had cuts, hickeys, and bites all over you. For the cherry on top you have a slight ring of tears in your eyes in a face contorted with pleasure. He takes the top of the knife and digs it a little on your side causing blood to start trickling out of the wound. Michael lifted his mask and bent down and began to lightly lick the blood and kiss around the wound. He began to speed up his pace, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. Both of his hands we're digging into your hips as a rammed in and out of you. Your hands flew up around his neck when you got close. He continued the speed until you both came at the same time. After you two were done, he took the knife and carved 'Michael' on your inner thigh.
Authors note🖤- I thought y'all needed something to spice up your day a bit. Who should I do for part 2? Requests are open! Have a lovely day<3
UPDATE!!! PART 2 IS OUT
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capybar00stash · 10 months
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bo and vincent (yellowed out)
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hello everyone i'm ill and i have artblock how are you all
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slasher-male-wife · 1 year
Text
Slashers when you succumb to Stockholm syndrome
So @slasherhaven wrote for this idea before but I wanted to write for it too. I didn't really reference their head canons too much just to make sure that I'm not copying them but I did get the idea from them. These are in the form of little drabbles because I liked them better than head canons
Includes: The Grabber, Brahms Heelshire, Pyramid Head and Bo Sinclair
Warnings: Manipulation, kidnapped reader, Stockholm syndrome
The Grabber
When he opens the basement door he finds you asleep, like he planned to find you. He's been watching you sleep since you first came here a month ago. He carefully shuts the door and makes his way over to the floor by the bed. He watches your chest move up and down as you sleep. A few minutes later he sees your eyes open. But instead of screaming or moving away from him, you smile. Catching him off guard.
"You came to check on me?" You whisper to him. It takes a few moments before he nods, "I'm glad you care about me. I like that." Slowly he realizes what's happening with you, a smile spread across his masked face.
"Of course I care about you dove. I took you because I care about you. I'm glad you know that I care." He moves in closer to you and strokes your hair out of your face. You shut your eyes again and drift back to sleep. He knows you don't really love him, but that doesn't matter. You think you love him, and you won't be leaving anytime soon.
Brahms Heelshire
When Brahms wakes up to your voice he's scared at first. Quickly sitting up in his bed.
"Good morning Brahms," You say with a smile on your face, "I hope you're ready to start your day." He's caught off guard by the shift in your attitude. He had to drag you everywhere with him just a few days ago. But now, two months into knowing the real Brahms, you're actually following the schedule. He can't see any signs of you crying either. He thinks that you've finally accepted life here with him.
"I am Y/n. I'm glad to see you finally happy."
"Of course Brahms. Now let's get changed then we can eat." He nods getting out of bed while you pull out his new clothes. He could get very used to this.
Pyramid Head
After having to leave to deal with some intruders Pyramid Head returns to the building that he's kept you in for a few months now. When he walks in he notices you're still not fighting him like you were before. He unties your hands from a radiator that he keeps you attached to while he's gone and you don't try to run away from him.
He steps away from you to see if you'll try to run then but you don't.
"I'm not going to leave you," You say to him, "You're keeping me safe and alive and I don't want to ruin that. You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his torso, "I promise I won't leave."
Pyramid head is very confused about this but he doesn't question you on it. He simply puts his arms lightly around you too and hugs you back. He doesn't care why you changed like this all of the sudden, he just cares that you're finally trusting him.
Bo Sinclair
It's been months since you first came to Ambrose. You gave up on fighting Bo awhile ago and now you're locked inside the house while he's gone. But when he came home today he found you cooking dinner for him in the kitchen.
"Darlin'?" He asks. You used to tell him not to call you that and you never responded to it but today you turn and look at him with a smile.
"Hi Bo. I thought I would make dinner for you since you're so busy today, I hope you don't mind."
"Not t'all Y/n," He has an idea of what's going on with you but he doesn't want to really say its Stockholm syndrome yet. But when he puts his hands on your hips while standing behind you, and you hum out approval, he knows you're in Stockholm syndrome, but he doesn't care. You're finally accepting your new life here, and that's all he's ever wanted.
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not-neverland06 · 1 month
Text
One More Spring
One-shot
Tagging: @dumblittlebunbun bc you’d commented on a previous slasher post
Bo Sinclair x fem!reader A/N: This was a strange little Drabble I came up with when I was experimenting with a different writing style. Summary: You only have one wish, to make it to one more spring in Ambrose. You know that the women don’t last long, used and tossed aside, you don’t have big hopes. Just one last prayer.
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You could always tell what kind of day it would be by how the door closed. Maybe it was because you’d grown up with strict parents, but you could read a mood based off their footsteps. 
For now, you felt comfortable and remained lounged on your crappy lawn chair, trying to get some sun back on your legs after winter. The screen door closed lightly behind Bo as his heavy boots made their way to you. 
You didn’t bother lifting your sunglasses as you felt him hovering over you. “What’re you doing?” His voice was gruff and he sounded like he was panting. 
“Trying to get some color back.”
You could hear him scoff and glanced to the side to see him stealing a swig from your beer. “Don’t have better things to be doing?”
“Like what?” You snarked, rolling over and huffing when his eyes immediately went to your ass. Probably a good thing you chose a skimpy pair of bottoms, he was always more agreeable when he was horny. “Playing housewife?”
He chuckled under his breath, kneeling down beside you and flicking your sunglasses up. “Yeah, maybe.”
You rolled your eyes and swatted his hands away. You propped your head up on your arms and glared at him. “I’ll put on an apron for you later, for now, buzz off.”
He shook his head and stood up. “Don’t know where all this attitude came from.” You yelped as his hand came down on your ass. He laughed loudly, walking away much too smug for your liking. “Better not be a damn thing under that apron later!” He shouted as he went back into the house. 
You looked up to tell him off and finally caught a glimpse of his coveralls. Blood coated the bottom of his pants and you shrank back into your chair. You put your head back down on your arms, closing your eyes and ignoring the way your stomach twinged in anxiety. 
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As requested, you’d made dinner in an apron and nothing else. Bo had subsequently banished Vincent from the kitchen. You’d felt bad when you’d woken up in the morning, you hadn’t gotten a chance to slip him any food. You’d passed out pretty much the second Bo was done with you. 
Your eyes darted to the bloody coveralls on your bathroom floor. You sighed, legs aching as you got off the bed. You collected his dirtied uniform and the laundry basket and made your way downstairs. 
You got started on the laundry, kicking the old washing machine a few times to get it going. It had been on its last leg for a decade, it was a matter of months before it finally conked out. You threw the clothes in, fingers snagging on a lacy number at the bottom. 
You frowned, tugging it out and holding it up to the light. You’d never seen this before. It certainly hadn’t come from your bag. “You like it?”
You jumped, whirling around with the shirt clutched to your chest. “Jesus, Bo, you scared me.”
He chuckled, face still slightly mussed from sleep. He was only in a white t-shirt and pajama pants, rare to see him in anything other than working clothes. “Snagged that off a tourist yesterday, thought you’d look good in it.”
I thought you would like it. 
I know you’ve got a few shirts like that in your closet.
You always look pretty in this color, baby.
You’d heard it all a thousand different ways. The same sentence over and over and over again. You were haunted by the women of Ambrose. The ones who came before you, who’d tried and failed to play house with him. The ones who were yet to come. 
And the woman who would inevitably replace you when you messed up for the final time. 
Your nails dug into the lace, feeling it give beneath them as you smiled at Bo. “I love it, thank you.”
He hugged you, lips lingering against your forehead before he wandered off to start some coffee. You turned around, eyes going back to the shirt. You’d burn it if you could. Rip it apart and scream, instead you tossed it in the wash with the rest of your clothes. You let the lid slam shut, the noise jarring you out of your stupor. 
You forced on a happy face and walked into the kitchen. Vincent was lingering near the entrance and you offered him a gentle smile. “Sorry about dinner,” you whispered as you passed him. He shook his head and took a seat at the table. 
You grabbed the ingredients you needed, rustling through Bo’s ancient cookbook for the French toast recipe you’d found the other day. One day, you’d run out, you wouldn’t have any more delicacies to surprise them both with. 
Bo would tire of the same repetitive food. The same face every morning. The same sounds and movements in the bedroom. You’d become used up, lose the new shine everyone loved on their toys. 
You clenched the spatula in your hand, gritting your teeth as you cooked some eggs for the both of them. You brought it over to the table, scooping it onto their plates, Bo got the bigger serving. Bo always got what he wanted.
Your mind flashed to the garage, the straps there waiting for you. “Hey!”
You jumped, pan nearly dropping out of your hands as you stared at the dropped eggs on his lap. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” You rushed to the counter, grabbing a towel and kneeling down, frantically trying to get them off his pants. 
A calloused hand landed on your head, you jumped and looked up at Bo. Your heart raced, expecting malice or a sneer that meant the last nail had fallen and your time was up. Instead he was smiling gently down at you, hand smoothing the hair from your face. “Just a spill, darlin’, get the bacon ‘fore it burns.”
You backed away instantly, taking the egg filled rag with you as you went back to the stove. You flipped the bacon, turning off the burner and risking a glance over your shoulder at Bo. 
He was sipping his coffee peacefully, not a worry in the world. But you could see how tightly Vincent had his fork gripped, the way it shook slightly as he placed it back on his plate. Seems you weren’t the only one who’d thought your time was up. 
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When would it happen?
When spring returned and the birds started chirping their early morning song again?
You wouldn’t mind if that was when it ended. If you got to make it to another birthday, that would be even better. You’d like to experience another holiday, or Halloween. Perhaps that was too much to ask for. 
You’d settle for just seeing the buds return to the trees in Ambrose once more. Pink blooming in the absence of death. That would be lovely. 
Alright, you’ll take that. 
Make it through one more spring and you can happily let go. 
You could hear the women screaming as you walked down the stairs of the house. See glimpses of who they used to be. Hair clips you knew weren’t yours, underwear buried in the back of drawers that you’d never touched. Necklaces and jewelry that didn’t match yours. 
You could hear their voices, disorienting and panicked as you hung the laundry on the line. Felt like the birds echoed their mourning cries in their melody. 
You saw the red lines around your wrist as you pulled off the dry sheets. You tried not to look at them too much. Bo liked to touch them, rub his fingers along your wrist and admire them. He thought it brought you closer, linked you together somehow. 
You hated looking at them. Hated the sight of the worn skin. All it reminded you of was the time below. Your pictures that were tacked above the others. 
You heard a scream further away from the house, bloodcurdling and echoing through the air of Ambrose. It would never make it out. Never travel past the forest bordering the ghost town. You wondered if it was a product of your own fractured psyche or another masterpiece in the works. 
Your question was answered when you sat on your knees in the bathroom that night, trying to scrub the crimson out of Bo’s coveralls. 
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You liked your time with Vincent. You like the candles he kept scattered around his studio, nails dug into them to help him keep time. He’d sit you down on the couch and would position you like a doll. You’d let him, mind going numb as you lost time for as long as he wanted to draw you. 
You knew he liked you the most out of the other girls. You learned sign language for him, communicating with him when Bo got sick of both of you. He enjoyed your face the most. It wasn’t model perfect or the type of beauty people wrote songs about. 
He liked the normalcy of it, the slightly blandness. He’d told you once, on a nice night, that it was your eyes that gave you life. Not the color of them, but the light behind them. 
You wondered if he would draw you again when Bo snubbed them out. 
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You folded Bo’s clothes, tucking them neatly into his drawers and tossing the basket back into the hall. You moved towards the bed, straightening the sheets and tucking them in tight. You liked it tight, he hated it. 
Your one act of rebellion. 
It honestly wasn’t hard to fall into this role with Bo. You’d known if you’d wanted to survive the only chance you had was to make him happy. In a way it was peaceful here. It was quiet and you never had to worry about anything.
You cleaned the house, cooked the food, were the perfect housewife and he’d be content and so would you. He let you have your own time, surprising you with journals to write in. Or he’d dig through tourists bags and bring you back books he’d thought you’d like. 
You didn’t get to go into the city with him, doubted you ever would, but you were okay with this. 
You picked up his watch, opening up his night table’s drawer to tuck it away. Your eyes landed on a bright splash of red and your fingers froze from where they hovered above the handle. You glanced over your shoulder, heart thrumming. 
You turned back towards the drawer and carefully slid the Polaroid out. 
A picture, a woman with gorgeous red hair splayed along her pillow. She looked beautiful. 
Or she would. 
If it wasn’t for the gash across the neck, so deep it showed you the inside of her throat. Crimson dripped from the wound, pooling around her and onto the bed below her. 
Your eyes darted to the bed to your left, hands wrinkling the pristinely kept picture. Without thinking your hand dove further into the drawer, probing, digging, searching for something. 
You didn’t know what until you hissed, hand jerking back as blood blistered out of the gash on your finger. You placed the picture back, popping your finger into your mouth and licking up the metallic taste of your blood. 
You used your other hand to wrap around the handle of the blade, tugging out the large kitchen knife and staring down at it blankly. 
One more spring.
You put the knife back, straightening out his drawer and leaving the haunted bedroom to clean your wound. 
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You woke to the sound of birds chirping. To your left was the window, pink buds blooming across the branch of the tree across from the house. Above you was Bo, straddling your waist, a knife held tightly in his hand. 
“Well,” you wrapped a hand around his, calmly pulling the knife down to your throat. You’d thought you’d be more upset. Fight, beg, plead for one last winter, or just another day. One last good day. But you were tired, you’d been slipping since summer. Bits and pieces of yourself floating along the wind, joining the cacophony of lost women. “Aren’t you going to do it?”
Bo stared down at you, his brows furrowed. The whites of his eyes were red and you knew he’s been struggling with this for a while. You weren’t sure how long he’d been sitting above you, but you knew it had been before you’d woken. 
You were thankful, at least, that he had let you see the spring morning before he did this. 
He yanked his hand out of yours, “Crazy bitch,” he muttered. He scoffed and shook his head, jumping off of you. Your head lolled to the left, you opened up the window, inhaling the fresh smell of new life. 
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You made it another winter and another spring. Your face was plastered along Vincent’s wall. Statues of you adorned Ambrose but you didn’t occupy a single one of them. 
On the outside MISSING flyers with your face faded and fell from lamp posts. Your name was forgotten from the minds of those who’d been alive to mourn you. You became another statistic, another lost soul. An old news story that would be used in classrooms. 
What happened to her?
Is she still alive?
Was she the first?
Will we ever know?
No. They wouldn’t. You were the girl on the paper trampled beneath frantic feet as they rushed to work. Tossed aside in the garbage when they were done with the morning paper. To the rest of them, you were forgotten. 
To Ambrose, you were their muse. Inspiration behind their every move. 
Every morning you’d wake up to a blade pressed against your throat. And every morning Bo would leap away from you and shake his head. He’d never do it, you knew that now, and it provided you with a careless freedom that freed you from the shackles you’d placed upon yourself. 
You didn’t spread your legs and let him take what he wanted anymore. You didn’t submit under his temper, you fought back, raised your voice and threw glass bottles right back at him. You didn’t let him bend Vincent under his thumb or scream at him just because he could. 
You pushed, every day, that invisible line that separated you from the other ghosts in town. Yet, somehow, you never breached it, only managed to extend it. 
“I want to go with you.”
Bo froze, after a moment he fixed his cap and grabbed his keys from the tray. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, “Well, come on then.”
You followed him through the front door, hopping in the truck when he opened it up to you. The engine rumbled, vibrating the seat below you and his hand slid from the keys to your thigh. He squeezed, as if reminding himself you were there, he was really doing this. 
You could hardly believe it yourself. 
Bo rounded the bend from the gas station and you felt your heart racing. A hummingbird flitting through your chest, frantically trying to break from the cage of your ribs. He pulled through the old campground, the one you’d been on before your car had mysteriously broken down. 
You couldn’t remember who it was you were with. What their names were.
You’re halfway certain one of them had been a lover. His name lost to the past. 
Bo pulls onto the highway and you brace yourself. You’re not sure for what. Perhaps for him to change his mind, a blade buried in your gut. To start pouring blood down the front of your shirt. Or maybe the car will wreck, divine intervention deciding that neither of you get another day. 
Nothing happens. Bo slams his hand against the truck’s stereo and rock crackles through the speakers. His hand returns to your thigh and he hums along to the music. After a moment you relax, rolling the window down and letting the breeze cool you down. 
He makes it to the city, smaller than where you used to live, but a mammoth compared to Ambrose. You buy groceries, marveling over products you’d forgotten even existed. You finally manage to buy the tampons you like instead of getting lucky that another woman has them in her bag. 
You harass him into letting you go to a secondhand store, buying a shirt for you. Yours and yours alone. It’s simple, long sleeved and white, nothing special, but it means everything to you. When you make it back to Ambrose, the familiar stifling air and aged walls, you bury the shirt in your dresser. 
You’ll never wear it and never part with it. This shirt will never be anyone else’s but yours. You’ll never allow another woman to get her hands on it. Even when you’re gone you’ll protect it. 
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“What do you think?”
Bo shrugged, taking another swig of his beer as his eyes roved over the journal in his hand. You sat on the edge of your seat, eagerly watching him read. Perhaps a bit too eagerly, he sensed it, pouncing on the chance to make you vulnerable. 
“You know I don’t read much, baby.”
You rolled your eyes and moved to sit next to him. “I’m aware, it’s real sad, Bo. Now,” you nudged his shoulder with your own. “What do you think?”
He chuckled, marking the page and tossing it on the coffee table. His legs spread and you took the invitation, slotting yourself in his lap and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He grinned up at you, “It was good. Real fuckin’ good.”
You smiled, cheeks puffing out with the force of it. “Really?”
He nodded his head, “Mhm.” He leaned forward, taking you with him, and placed his beer on the table. You reached behind yourself, blindly readjusting it onto a coaster. He rolled his eyes, but you saw the fondness in them. 
His hands moved down your back, squeezing your ass before they landed on your thighs. Rough calluses spread along smooth skin and goosebumps prickled under his touch. You don’t know why you let him read the strange disjointed novel you’d been writing. 
Maybe because you knew no one would ever see it. Maybe you wanted some part of yourself permanently embedded into his brain. Either way, you enjoyed the way his face changed as he took it in. The expressions shifting with each new sentence. 
“You got a fucked up little mind, you know that?”
You hummed, nodding your head and leaning forward to slot your lips against his own. It was his own fault you were like this. He’d bent you, broke you down, used you until you were a shadow of the woman who used to exist within your body. 
Maybe he had won. 
There was a part of you, a spirit, floating somewhere beneath his garage, that had once belonged to you. 
You ground your hips down against his, biting down on his lip until copper flooded your mouth. He didn’t get angry, just gripped your hair and moved you both to the cushions. He groaned into your open mouth, pinning your body below his and manipulating you how he wanted. 
Then again, maybe you’d ruined him too. 
You shouldn’t be alive. You shouldn’t still have a throat to drag air down, but here you were. Shoving against him and forcing him to submit to your whims. You weren’t the only one who’d changed, and you both knew it. 
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end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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y3strr · 23 days
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Me with the horror slasher I managed to pull by being just as deranged!! ^_^
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f1nalboys · 4 months
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Did You Mean It? - Bo Sinclair
Bo Sinclair x Fem!AFAB!Reader
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WORD COUNT: 819
WARNINGS: nsfw, breeding, dubcon, daddy kink (bo refers to himself as daddy multiple times), mommy kink (bo refers to reader as mommy once but not sexually, just in reference to becoming a mom), talk about getting pregnant (bc duhhh), some teasing from bo. kinda proofread. lmk if i missed any tags!
Bo’s tongue runs along the warm flesh of your neck as he pumps his cock inside you. Your body was beginning to ache, your leg muscles cramping from the position he’s held you in for the last half an hour. “F-fuck,” Bo grunts, his breath warm. His voice cracks as he speaks, his hips sputtering. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, sweetheart, gonna cum nice and deep inside you.”
You wince at a particularly deep thrust, your hole clenching tightly around him, and he mistakes it for affection. He always did. You did too sometimes. You feel the hot breath of his laughter before you feel it rumble from his chest, your legs thrown over his shoulders. “Yeah, that’s right, darlin’. Daddys got you, he’s gonna fill you up nice and full, let you carry around his seed. You want that, right?” He asks and you cry out, the stretch of his cock almost too much. You’re not sure why it still hurts after all this time, but a part of you wonders if you like the pain a little too much to accommodate it. “You wanna carry my baby, darlin’?”
Your eyes widen as he asks, feeling his cock twitch inside you. He never spoke like this. In the entire time of you being here in Ambrose - was it weeks or months? Maybe a year? - Bo avoided the topic of family like the plague. You remember asking him once if he ever wanted children, and you remember how hard it was to sit afterwards. His thrusts speed up and you cry out in pain, his cock ramming into you with renewed fervor. Your cunt squeezes around him tightly and he grunts, the noise low in his throat. A growl. A sharp reminder of who he is. 
“Yeah? You fuckin’ want it too, don’t you? Right, Y/N?” He asks, grunting in between each word. He moves his head from the crook of your neck, a flash of appreciation in his eyes as he takes in the hickies and bite marks he had littered across your skin. His blue eyes are dark when he looks at you, sweat glistening off his forehead. “Say it. Say you want my baby and I’ll fuckin’ give it to ya’.” He says and you know he’s close.
You realize you are, too. It was so much easier to feel your own pleasure when you knew Bo was feeling it too. 
“I… I want your baby, Bo. Please.” You stammer out, panting. It felt like the pleasure had hit you out of nowhere, knocking the wind out of you, making you feel all of it at once. There was no growing pit in your stomach and no warning. “Holy shit,” you say, eyes widening as you look up at him. He smiles and you wonder briefly if you’ve ever told him how handsome he was. “I-I’m gonna cum.”
Bo moans, his hands grabbing ahold of your face to keep you looking at him. “Good. Fuck, fuck yeah, cum around my cock, sweetheart, milk me.” He shudders, his eyes squeezing shut. “A-Always heard that it sticks better when you cum too.” He says before he groans loudly, pushing the entire length of his cock inside you as he cums. You feel him spill inside you, gasping at the sheer amount, before your own orgasm rips through you. He whimpers, a noise you rarely got from him, as your pussy clenches around him, making sure you got every drop. “Fuck, you’re so god damn tight.”
Bo catches his breath as you ride out your high, grinning down at you in a way that makes you close your eyes, embarrassed at the intensity. You grunt when he moves your legs off of his shoulders, your muscles tense as they flop back against the bed, his cock still stuffed inside you. “Did you mean it?” You ask quietly, your voice unsure in the dark room. You don’t need to open your eyes to see Bo tilt his head to the side, humming. “About… about giving me your baby?”
His laugh makes you shiver. His finger runs down your cheek as he tsks, mocking. “Aww, are you worried I was lying, darlin’? Worried daddy wasn’t gonna make you a mommy, that I wasn’t gonna give you a baby?” He asks, his voice cruel and low. Your eyes open to look up at him and they widen slightly; you had expected a cruel and teasing grin, but the look on his face was far softer than you had come to know. His usual frown lines were smoothed over, a small smile on his face. He leans down, kissing gently along your cheek and jaw before he settles them right next to your ear. “I meant it, sweetheart. And I’m not done just yet.”
His hips rock forwards slightly and you whimper from overstimulation, your cunt pulsing.
“I’m gonna make sure it takes.”
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